


Declare Myself

by LieutenantSaavik



Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/F, also it's one of my best pieces of writing so! take a look please guys, this is a mirrorverse femslash fic because by god we need more of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 23,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantSaavik/pseuds/LieutenantSaavik
Summary: Life is tough aboard the ISS Enterprise. But Saavik, the Half-Romulan JG Lieutenant, has the beautiful, lethal Ilia at her side.There's only one problem: Saavik's bondmate is Valeris.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my favorite fic so far, and it means a lot to me that you've decided to read it. If something strikes you, please leave a comment, and I hope you enjoy this little story of mine.

Ilia presses Saavik’s hips down into the mattress, fingers tight across her bones. Saavik leans her head back, allows herself to be pinned. “You’re always good at this,” she whispers, letting her eyes close.

Ilia’s hands trace up Saavik’s face and she presses a kiss to her jawline, placing her hand gently over Saavik’s and smiling as Saavik presses their palms and fingers together.

Then Ilia shifts. Something feels wrong. Saavik’s eyes snap open; Ilia’s suddenly got a knife in her hand.

She grasps Ilia’s wrist and wrenches it sideways. Ilia grunts in surprise and Saavik takes that split-second to roll Ilia over and flatten her, slamming her wrist down onto Ilia’s hand and wrenching the knife out of it. “What the fuck?” she asks, holding the blade to Ilia’s throat. “Who tries to stab someone when they’re half-naked?”

“Historically, a lot of people,” Ilia pants out. “Get off me.”

Saavik rolls off of her, pulling sheets and blankets over her chest. She keeps the blade out in front of her as Ilia leisurely sits upright, tucking her knees to her chest. She tilts her head at Saavik. “You know that’s how it works here.”

Saavik shakes her head. “I’m of a lower rank than you. You’re a Lieutenant; I’m a Lieutenant Junior Grade. You wouldn’t rise through the ranks by murdering me, and there’s nobody more likely than you do have done it, so you couldn’t frame anyone for sabotage. There’s no logical reason for you to kill me.” She stops and thinks for a moment. “Unless you weren’t really trying to.”

“I wasn’t.” Ilia turns and slides off Saavik’s bed, retrieving her lingerie from the floor and slipping the satiny mint-green fabric over her head. “I’m being protective of you. That was a badly-concealed blade, and I made noise on the sheets when I pulled it out. I wanted to test you.”

Just because Saavik has trouble lying doesn’t mean everyone else does. “And why should I believe you?”

“I don’t want to kill you.” Ilia sits down on the foot of the bed, ignoring the knife still pointed at her. “You’re younger than me relative to your overall lifespan. I don’t think it’s fully sunk in that people  _ will _ kill you.”

She gestures to the little wooden board hung up on the wall, covered with scores of scratched tally-marks. “You know death happens here. You keep track of it; everyone does. You’re low-ranking, so you’re not at risk. But you’re a capable starship officer, and you won’t be a Junior Lieutenant for long. You’re on a steep upward trajectory that started at the Academy, and people are noticing.”

“Like who?”

“Jerry Richardson, for one.”

“He’s too busy thirsting after S’Parva for me to be worried.”

“But he’s older than you  _ and _ still an Ensign.”

“Maybe you’re just trying to stop me from suspecting you. Regardless of your reasoning, you did just pull a blade on me.” Still, she logs the name Richardson into the back of her mind, prepared to go on the defensive around him.

“I don’t want to foster even more distrust on this ship.” Ilia shakes her head. “You’re pretty good in bed, and I don’t want you to die.” She reaches over and places two fingers on the edge of the knife Saavik is holding. “I’m going to need this back.”

Saavik shakes her head, pulling it towards herself and dropping it into her lap. “If someone wrests it from you fairly in combat, they get to keep it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fight me for it, then.”

“One of us might accidentally get hurt and then be weakened if there’s a real attempt on one of our lives.”

“I’ll give it back to you under one condition.” Saavik deliberates. “Let’s go back to the way we were; you on top of me.  _ No _ , not in a sexual way, so stop looking at me like that.” She pauses. “I acknowledge how that sounded. But that’s not how I meant it. What I want is for you to put the knife back in your shorts and then pull it out as well as you can, as if you were really trying to kill me.”

It only takes Ilia a second to guess her motivation. “You want to judge whether or not I was really trying?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t you just do the,” Ilia waves her fingers in the air, “Mind thing?”

“I don’t want to see into your head.”

Ilia sits back. “Rude.”

“There’s a huge intimacy in it. And besides, I’m inexperienced and could leave lasting damage.”

“Oh.” Ilia narrow her eyes. “You’re sure it isn’t your mixed blood?”

Saavik purses her lips. “Spock has his full Vulcan capacity of mental abilities.”

“Yes, but he is half-Human, not half-Romulan, no?”

“As you just pointed out, I’m still young. It will come, I’m sure of it.”

“Will it come as easily as you do?”

Saavik throws the knife at Ilia’s head.


	2. Chapter 2

**** Ilia catches it easily. “I guess I ended up getting to keep this after all?”

“Fine.”

“I’m guessing the mood is killed,” she sighs, getting up off the bed and taking the first step towards the door.

“You guessed correctly. After you attempt a stabbing, the one whose life was in danger is usually not in a sexy mood.”

Ilia turns and smirks. “First off, I wasn’t trying to kill you. Secondly, don’t be a kinkshamer, Saavik, because some people’s kink is when they almost die and-“

“Ilia, shut the fuck up.”

Ilia’s eyes lose some of their mirthful sparkle and she nods. “Alright. And as a gesture of goodwill…” She leans toward Saavik and lets the blade fall to the bed. “Keep it. It’s well-balanced, and you need some more weaponry to defend yourself with.”

“I haven’t trained with a Deltan blade before.”

“First time for everything. Take care of yourself, Saavik; I really do think Richardson might have it in for you.”

She steps quickly to the exit, and three things happen very fast.

  1. Saavik sees a shadow move under the door-
  2. Ilia unlocks and opens the door-
  3. Saavik shouts _WAIT_ and Ilia half-turns-



Time seems caught as Saavik throws the blade to Ilia, as Ilia reaches up to catch it, as the shadowy figure bounds through the door and violently smashes Ilia against the wall, as the knife buries itself in S’Parva’s flesh.

Then someone’s screaming and someone’s howling and Saavik’s pushing herself up against her headboard with her hands over her ears because it’s so shatteringly loud, especially with her Vulcan hearing, and S’Parva and Ilia might be dying and she still has  _ no fucking shirt on _ -

“Saavik,” she hears, a strained, subdued voice, “Help,  _ please _ .”

She opens her eyes. The howling has subsided to moaning and burgundy blood is all over her floor, and S’Parva’s four legs are up in the air and Ilia is crushed between her huge dying body and the wall, face flushed.  _ Oxygen deprivation. _

Saavik forces herself off her bed, faces herself over to Ilia, forces herself not to look as she angles around S’Parva’s dying face, forces herself to brace her legs against the wall and grasp Ilia’s wrists and  _ heave _ , and Ilia pushes back against the wall to force S’Parva’s body farther. She gasps in air and collapses to the floor as S’Parva gives a dying groan and rolls over, finally dead, snapping the knife underneath her.

There’s a silence as Ilia catches her breath, as her color returns to normal. Saavik rests a hand on her shoulder as her chest moves up and down, watching her force her breathing back to normal. “Tell me when you’re alright.”

Ilia gently places her hand on top of Saavik’s, removing it from her shoulder but still holding onto it loosely. “I told you Richardson had it out for you. He must have sent S’Parva instead.”

She turns back to look at the dead Katellan. “It’s… a shame. She was,” Ilia inhales, exhales again, “Kind.”

“Too empathic.”

Ilia nods. “That, too.”

“She wouldn’t have tried to kill me on her own. I know that.”

“Yeah.”

Saavik takes Ilia’s other hand and helps her to her feet. “You should go to sleep.”

“I should.”

Ilia looks at S’Parva’s body, lying between her and the floor. “We should tell someone.”

_ We should. _

Saavik looks down at her still-naked chest, now blotched with S’Parva’s blood. She looks at Ilia, who has blood spatters on her cheekbones and chin. Her eyes are slipping into vacancy.

“Ilia,” Saavik says quietly, placing her hand on the back of Ilia’s neck, “Let’s go back to your room and clean ourselves off. You’re becoming dazed.”

“The body…”

“The yeomen come around every morning to see who died overnight. They’ll find her.”

Ilia nods, and Saavik gives her a quick pat before turning to go put on a shirt. She’s forced back a moment later when Ilia sways, groaning low in her throat. At her side in a heartbeat, Saavik catches her halfway to the floor.

_ Shit. _

Saavik places Ilia down on a pace where there’s minimal blood, thanking her upbringing in Vulcan’s high gravity. She pulls on the top shirt in her dresser, and by the time she returns, Ilia’s stirring.

“Fuck, I’m weak,” she moans, pushing herself to a sitting position. 

Saavik helps her to her feet again. “We’re going to your room. Now.”

“Right.”

Saavik fumbles with the lock and checks to see if the coast is clear before pulling Ilia out after her. The door swishes shut behind them as they make their way down the hallway, Ilia leaning on Saavik heavily and dragging her left leg a little. They see no-one, which makes sense; anyone’s fair game once the artificial lights dim for the “night.”

“It’s not far,” Ilia whispers.

Saavik slings Ilia’s arm more tightly around her. “Why didn’t you tell me you hurt your leg?”

“I didn’t know until I tried to walk.”

“You could have told me then.”

“Fair enough.”

“Did you notice before or after you fainted?”

“After.”

 

They finally reach the door. Ilia unlocks it with her wrist cuff and it slides open, admitting them both to the cabin.

They look around for a tense second, then relax once they realise it’s empty. “We’re safe now,” Saavik says as Ilia locks the door behind them. “You need to sleep.”

“I’m covered in blood.”

“It’s not safe to go out to the sonic. We’ve had enough near-death experiences tonight.”

Ilia reflects for a moment. “I guess neither of us got to keep that knife.”

“We’ll pick up more at the nearest starbase.”

“None as good as that one,” Ilia grumps. She looks down at herself again. “I’m filthy.”

“Wash yourself off in your bathroom,” Saavik suggests calmly.

“It’s lucky the refit gave us all our own.”

“Guess they were tired of wiping blood off the floors of the communal sonics.”

Ilia gives her a wan smile and walks over to her restroom, looking around it before closing the door behind her.

Saavik sits down and leans her head against the door, closes her eyes for a moment. Ilia comes out of the bathroom in a few minutes, dressed in moderately conservative sleepwear, and invites Saavik to take her turn. “You’re bloody too,” she tells her, and Saavik stands and nods.

 

Leaning over the sink, Saavik almost retches, the vision of S’Parva dead on the floor imprinted on her eyelids. Her reflection is washed-out, unnaturally pale under the artificial light, and there are green bruise-looking bags under her eyes. Her dark hair is scraggly and unkempt. She splashes water on her face, hoping that will bring some life back to her expression.

It does not, but she strips and throws water on the blood on her chest and stomach and shoulders and neck until she’s clean enough to sleep without itching. Still, an odd guilt crawls its way up her vertebrae, and she knows water won’t make it go away.

She pokes her head out the door. “Do you mind if I borrow a pair of sleeping clothes?”

Ilia lobs her something suspiciously thin. Saavik catches it and arches an eyebrow. “This is lingerie.”

Ilia shrugs. “I only have one nightgown, and I’m in it. Take it or sleep naked; I don’t care.”

Saavik huffs. “Fine.”

She changes and returns to the cabin, where Ilia is already in bed. “We’re sharing,” she shouts from under the covers. “Get in here and warm me up a little.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” Saavik asks as she slides between the covers.

“Bottoms like that, no?”

“It’s the other way around.”

“I was  _ joking _ .”

“Oh, well fuck off, then, because you _ know _ I don’t get humor-”

“Go to sleep, Saavik; it’s been a long day, and you’re my relief at the conn tomorrow.”

“Fair enough.”

“Goodnight, Saavik.”

“Sleep peacefully, Ilia.”

Ilia rolls over and is asleep in seconds, but it takes Saavik almost 20 minutes to slip into a doze. Perhaps it’s because she knows it’s practically suicide to fall asleep in a room with another officer in it. Perhaps it’s the day’s events that keep her eyes wide open. Though the cabin is perfectly clean and sterile, she keeps imagining the smell of S’Parva’s blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Saavik is not a light sleeper, and she wakes at 0530 when Ilia’s alarm blares. It takes her a moment to orient herself, to remember why there’s a weight on the bed beside her.

Ilia slides out of bed quickly, crossing to her dresser and opening the top drawer. Saavik blinks at her sleepily, watching the fabric sway around her thighs. “Good morning,” she croaks out. Swallowing, she tries again. “Hello.”

Ilia turns. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Alarms will do that.”

Ilia nods, then rolls her eyes. “Stop checking me out.”

“We’ve had sex seven times.”

“Six,” Ilia corrects. “I thought Vulcans were supposed to be precise.”

“Not this early in the morning, we’re not,” Saavik grumbles. “Why do you even keep track of those things?”

“I rank people.”

Saavik sits bolt upright. “You fucking what?”

“How else am I supposed to blackmail the people I’ve slept with? Deltans enjoy this sort of thing; you monogamous Vulcans are missing out.” Ilia gives Saavik a sly look as she pulls her nightgown over her head. “You want to know where you fall, don’t you?”

Saavik tries furiously to lie. “The thought… crossed my mind, as soon as you mentioned that such a list existed.”

“You’re fifth.”

“Fifth?”

Ilia shrugs. “Decker was first, of course, but then he went crazy, was sent to blow up V’Ger, and nobody’s seen him since. Good riddance, because he didn’t deserve me, but I had some fun with him.” She pauses. “I bet you'd be first on the list if I’d ever hit you while you were going through that pon far thing.”

Saavik narrows her eyes. “ _ Pon farr _ is not a laughing matter.”

“Nothing is, for you. Hey, is there any way to trigger it artificially? Or delay it? Or does it just, wham, hit you, and then you scream a lot and hump walls or something until someone agrees to do the do with you?”

“We don’t discuss it.” Saavik bites down on her words. “And nobody humps any walls.”

“You didn’t answer my other questions.”

“Since it’s a hormonal imbalance, there are certain chemicals that can trigger symptoms, hormones, reactions. More than a single dose of exposure would be necessary, I’m sure. They’re on the black market; I think some Vulcans like to have…” she adopts Ilia’s parlance, “Extra fun with their bondmates.”

“Hm.”

“Nothing has been found to prevent it, however.”

“So when  _ you _ went through all that-“

“I have not. Half-Vulcans like myself and Mr. Spock do not require the full marriage-and-intercourse ritual, fortunately.”

“Fortunately?”

“I consider myself fortunate.”

“Cuz otherwise you’d have to straight-up bang Valeris. Right, I forgot you were cheating on her.”

“Firstly,” Saavik says, holding up one finger, “I have never ‘straight-up’ done anything. My interests to not reside at all with the male gender. Secondly, one cannot cheat on someone one is not in a romantic or sexual relationship with.”

Ilia laughs, then sobers. “You don’t love her.”

Saavik shakes her head. “No.”

“So you’re essentially betrothed but not married, and not bound by  _ pon farr _ ?”

“Essentially.”

“You’re both girls, though,” Ilia points out.

“The gender binary is illogical,” Saavik snips. 

Ilia puts her hands up. “Sorry, I forgot. I just… I didn’t think Vulcans did that, is all. Two females, or female-ish people, in a relationship.”

“Since Vulcan does not generally make a habit of disclosing its sexual practices, that is not surprising.”

Ilia shrugs. “Fair enough.” 

She dresses herself quickly, pulling on a golden headwrap, her uniform top and skirt, and choosing three of her many necklaces. Finally, she loops a bracelet around each wrist. “Are you going to get out of my bed or not?”

“Not yet; my shift does not begin until 0900.”

“So you’re just hijacking my cabin until then. No, you’re not. Get out. Oh, and take this with you,” she throws Saavik a necklace, “Because you’d look hot in it.”

The necklace -- more amulet-like, really -- lands on the sheets, and Saavik lifts it interestedly. “It’s too gaudy,” she comments, letting it dangle from between her fingers.

“Put it on your bookshelf, then. It’ll make that whole area light up a little.”

“I will.”

“Now get out!” Ilia gestures to the door.

Saavik reluctantly pries herself from between the sheets. “Very well. I will see you on the bridge, Ilia.”

Ilia waves a hand dismissively. “See you then.”


	4. Chapter 4

Saavik leaves the room, striding confidently despite her skimpy clothing, and arrives at her own quarters unseen. She hesitates before her door; the yeomen come just before 0600, which means S’Parva will still be in there.

Unlocking it slowly, she steps inside.

The room is dark at first, but as her eyes adjust, she can see the huge lump that is the dead Katellan, see the dark patches of blood, now dried, on the floor. Her room feels strange and not her own; it seems to thrum oddly. She doesn’t believe, as Ilia does, in good and bad energy,  _ but if I did _ , she reflects,  _ I would find an air of malevolence here. _ The half-light, meant to mimic early sunrise, is ominous; all shadows are deep black, pooling at the bottoms of her dresser and bedside table and corners of the room, and all color is washed-out, dim.

She steps around the blood on the floor, crossesto her dresser, and takes out undergarments and her white shift. Quickly, perhaps more quickly than is thoroughly rational, she exits into her bathroom, where she decides she will remain until she’s sure the yeomen have cleaned up the mess.

 

She reports to the cafeteria at 0820, clean and dressed, having taken (after 0600) an extra two hours of rest. It was not necessary, but she feels revived, and alertness on the bridge is, of course, critical.

Many others with 0900 shifts are scattered throughout the tables, most sitting alone or on opposite ends. Saavik spots David Marcus, a fellow Science Officer, in the corner. He catches her eye and beckons her to sit with him; not seeing an empty table, she does.

“Your shift does not start until 1500,” she reminds him. “You’re relieving me. Do you need to see the schedule?”

“I know how it goes.” He makes an unreadable face. “Morning Shifts: 0300, 0600. 0900 relieving 0300, 1200 relieving 0600. 1500 relieving 0900, 1800 relieving 1200. Then 0300 again, relieving 1800. So on and so forth until we all die in outer space.” He gives a wicked grin. “I’m getting a promotion.”

Saavik raises an eyebrow. “You and every other fuckboy on this ship.”

“That’s a very Terran parlance,” David observes. He looks hungry in a way that has nothing to do with his nearly-empty plate. “Sure you’re not getting corrupted?”

“I suppose I’ve listened to Ensign Richardson more than is good for me.”

“Yes,” David sarcastically muses, lifting some sort of bread to his mouth, “I believe you have.” He watches her as he chews, which he knows makes Saavik uncomfortable; Saavik meets his eyes the entire time he stares at her, which she knows does the same to him.

“You’re not going to eat?” he asks her.

“I will.”

“Want some of mine?” he asks. He takes some food from a totally untouched corner of his plate, the same bready substance.

“How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

David deliberately takes a bite of it. “This is how you know. Not everyone is trying to kill you.”

“S’Parva tried last night,” Saavik counters, arching an eyebrow.

David drops his fork. “She what?”

“You heard me.” Irked, Saavik takes the fork he dropped and pushes some of his bread onto her plate. “Get me some silverware.”

“Fine, princess. Since you almost died.” David stands, saunters over to the nearby food tables, and looks back halfway through to see if Saavik’s eating what he gave her. Saavik quirks her eyebrow again, mouthing the word “creep.”

David flashes her a grin in response and returns with two spoons. “So how’d you fight a dog off?” he asks, handing her one.

“You know full well I do not require a spoon. A fork and knife would have been the logical choice,” Saavik notifies him, trying to discern whether he is just that stupid or trying to annoy her.

David shrugs. “You didn’t specify.”

“That’s a very Vulcan parlance,” Saavik tells him, suppressing the sudden smile at the corner of her mouth. “Sure you’re not getting corrupted??”

David gives her a flat glare, but his eyes are sparkling. “I suppose I’ve listened to Lieutenant Saavik more than is good for me.”

Saavik huffs amusement and spoons David’s bread into her mouth. “If you must know, Ilia and I were both in my cabin when Ilia pulled a blade on me as a test. I promptly told her to remove herself from the room. As soon as she unlocked the door, S’Parva entered forcefully; when I threw the knife to Ilia in an effort to provide her self-defense, the quickly-moving S’Parva stepped into its trajectory, and it impaled her instead.”

David closes his eyes for a moment, then nods. “Shit like that happens a lot here, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

David sighs. “I’m guessing you and Ilia were being lesbians together? That’s pretty hot.”

“Your terms for sexuality are outdated and Earth-centric, but I still find your remark bigoted. Besides, Lieutenant Ilia has displayed attraction to multiple genders, though why she has,” she gives David a pointed look, “Is beyond me.”

“Oh, go cry about it somewhere else.”

“I think you should apologise for your rude remark.”

“And lie?”

“Humans are capable of it.”

“Alright.  _ I’m sorry, Saavik. _ ”

“I have rarely heard a statement more insincere than the one you just uttered.”

David shrugs. “What can I say? I  _ can _ lie, but I’m pretty bad at it.”

Saavik takes another spoonful of bread, which David looks oddly happy about. “I have a feeling you can lie a bit better than that,” she informs him.

“You have a feeling?” he asks.

“I _believe_ you can lie a bit better than that,” she amends.

David dumps the rest of his food onto Saavik’s plate. “Maybe so, but you wouldn’t know it if I could.”

Standing, he gives her a flirtatious wave and heads for the door, leaving his dish for the yeomen to clean up. Resting her forehead on her fingertips for a moment, Saavik finishes her meal and decides to spend the remainder of her pre-shift time playing chess against the computer. The conversation has tired her; she feels buzzy and slightly discombobulated. Shaking her head, she mutters “ _ Boys _ ,” and leaves the room.


	5. Chapter 5

She heads down the hallways, head up but not too up, gaze cool and not too challenging. If she sees Ensign Richardson, she’s prepared to run. The thought of S’Parva again strikes her, but she brushes it from her mind. 

As she heads toward the recreation room, she hears screaming. Someone’s in the Agony Booth.

She easily packs away any dread she might feel. She just won’t look as she passes. But the scream grows in volume, high-pitched, tormented, and loud; perverse curiosity fills her. She turns towards the left hallway, away from the recreation room, and sees David pressed against the glass.

She stops dead.

He’s the source of the screams, face contorted in agony, eyes squeezed shut. He bends over, stands, bends over again, fighting the invisible force.

Saavik walks forward until she’s next to the booth, looking at him closer. His reactions are not as extreme as she expected; perhaps he is stronger than she had realised.

“Why is he in there?” she asks the two ensigns next to the booth. “I saw him just sixteen minutes ago.”

“That’s about how long he’s been in here, ma’am,” the one on the right says, noting her higher rank. Saavik glowers at the address. “It’s sir and mister, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Satisfied, she inclines her head slightly and looks at David again. His screams have died to whimpers, and his eyes are limply cracked open to watch them interact. 

“What was the altercation?” she asks again, turning to the one on the left this time.  _ It must have happened incredibly fast. _ “What did he do?”

“Some rage directed at the captain, I think. I don’t know. I know Esteban sent him here fifteen minutes ago, with no explanation.”

_ Maybe Esteban heard him being a jackass. No. It’s more likely his typical irrational violence. _

“No reason at all was given?”

“No, sir,” the ensigns chorus.

Saavik chews on her lower lip for a moment. Then she lunges forward, striking the left ensign across the neck and nerve-pinching him sharply. He screeches briefly and crumples, and she spins on the other, kicking him solidly in the chest and diving to the floor as he throws a punch at her. She kicks his knee, causing him to stagger, and uses his momentary incapacity to stand up and draw the dagger strapped to her thigh. They face off.

She feints left and attacks right. He blocks her first stab but not her kick, and she sends her knee into his solar plexus. The air leaves his body in a rush. Kicking him to the floor with the heel of her boot, she nerve-pinches him, too.

She stands and wipes her fingers down the side of her skirt, re-sheathing her blade.  _ Fucking hell. _

She reaches for the console, pressing the buttons to open the chamber, and watches as glass slides apart. David sways for a moment, slides out, and lands on the floor, senseless.

Saavik leans over him for a moment. She places her hands on his face, gathering her strength to perform a simple knowledge deposition.

She does not touch his mind or anything he is feeling; to do so would be a huge invasion of privacy and self, something she would never conscionably do. Instead, just above the surface of what makes David himself, she leaves three words: “You Owe Me.” She senses that his mind is active; he must no longer be unconscious.  _ Good. _

Saavik stands, spins on her heel, and dashes down the corridor. She slows to a sluggish walk as she approaches the closer turbolift and arrives on the bridge slowly, at 0857.

Captain Esteban is waiting for her, hands on hips.


	6. Chapter 6

She approaches hesitantly, head down.  _ Be submissive, be submissive _ , she tells herself. _ He likes that and must have that; be submissive. _

It does no good. As soon as she’s in range, he grasps her left arm and hauls her against him. “Bitch,” he spits at her. He throws her from him, and if she weren’t Vulcan, she’d go flying. As is, she stumbles back three steps and bangs her back into the closed lift. “Who the fuck-” he starts to shout, “Who the HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” He points to the turbolift. “In there.”

He grasps her arm again, clenching it so tightly it hurts, and when the lift doors open, he shoves her in headfirst.

She catches herself long before she would have hit the wall or floor, grasping the handholds and turning to face her captain.

He stares at her darkly. There is no sensuality in his gaze, but she still feels vulnerable.

“Deck six,” he says, his voice controlled. As soon as the doors close, he snaps. “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” he rages at her, as the lift drops. “YOU DON’T GET TO DECIDE WHO SUFFERS ON THIS SHIP. ONLY I DO. WHEN I SEND SOMEONE TO THE AGONY BOOTH, HE STAYS THERE.  _ DO YOU UNDERSTAND? _ ”

Saavik barely winces. “I understand, sir.”

“AS OF THIS MOMENT, YOU ARE-“

“Sir.”

Saavik clenches her teeth together, presses her back into the wall. “I am one of the most capable science officers on the ship. It would not make sense to demote me.” She bows her head. “I promise you the mistake will not happen again.”

“You take the remainder of David’s sentence, then, Saavik,” he snarls, closing the distance between them in two animalistic steps. He grasps her chin and wrenches her face upward to his. “Half an hour.”

Saavik meets his too-close gaze levelly, willing herself not to quake. Their noses are almost touching. “Very well, sir.”

He releases her, and she falls back against the wall. “And as further punishment, Marcus will serve with you. I’ll send him right over. Right,” he snaps his fingers, “Over. And you will watch as he writhes. I feel that will hurt you more. I hope you know that by ‘rescuing’ him, you actually ensured he would stay in there longer.”

Saavik doesn’t dare protest. She nods curtly. “Yes, Captain.”

Esteban looks at her again, a long, raking gaze. The turbolift doors won’t open until one of them shifts. He does, and then points outside. “You are relieved from bridge duty today and for the rest of the week. If you do not report to the Agony Booth within six minutes, I will extend your sentence to one hour. If you step out of line one more time, I will have you killed.”

Saavik nods again and steps outside the lift. “Yes, sir.”

“Go,” he orders with a final snarl, and the doors close.

Saavik folds her hands together behind her back. She starts to walk; she has approximately five and a half minutes with which to reach her destination. Three ensigns and a half-dressed yeoman watch her go; she stares them down.

When she turns the corner and the booths are in sight, she notes that David is gone; he must have walked off.  _ Ironic that he’ll be back so soon. _ Two different redshirts are standing guard; both look bored. When they see her, they snap to attention, likely knowing what she did to their comrades a few minutes earlier. The one on the right points into the left booth. Saavik gives them both a graceless smile, telling them, “Half-an-hour.”

She’ll go in, grit her teeth and bear it, and be out before David is. She can flip him off through the glass, if she has the presence of mind to do so. She’s seen and heard terrible things about the booths, but she’s learned something far more important from her mentor:  _ Pain is a thing of the mind, and the mind can be controlled. _

She looks down the hall; David has still not reported to the booth. Still, he has over four minutes to do so.

She steps inside and the glass door is sealed behind her. Four minutes until the pain starts.

She reflects on the term ‘redshirt’ for a moment, waiting. Of course, all officers on starships wear red uniforms; the Empire just colonised a very wealthy planet and had apparently decided it was time for the uniforms to shift towards something more professional. That meant skirts and crop-tops for all, not just the women, and turtlenecks that would denote which track (Command, Science, or Operations) that the officers were on. Still, the term ‘redshirt’ has stuck like glue to the low-ranking operations officers who have always been the most expendable.  _ It’s odd, and most illogical, but that’s the patois of the ship, I suppose. _

Then she sees David turn the corner, chest out and head up. He looks like a plucked chicken.  _ Here is Plato’s man. _ Saavik almost smiles. She feels a pang at sentencing him to still more pain; after all, she had intended to remove him from torture that he, an incredibly flawed but responsible officer, did not deserve. He sees her through the glass; he narrows his eyes and bestially bares his teeth at her.

Saavik glares back and turns away.  _ I was trying to help you, asshole. _

She realises she’s picked up almost all of her swearing from him. But it’s satisfying and therefore logical.

_ Does ‘it’s satisfying and therefore logical” apply to Captain Esteban’s desire to torture his subordinates?  _ her intrusive thoughts ask.

She inwardly shakes her head.  _ No. Things that harm others, things that are merely detrimental, have no logic to them. Even in a violent world such as this. _

David slides into the adjacent glass tube just as the four minutes are up. The left redshirt flips the switch and David flops to the ground, screaming. Saavik tenses her muscles.

Nothing happens.

There is no pain.

She looks at David, then back at her booth. The ensign meets her eyes and looks to the switchboard.

He flicks the booth off and then on again.

Saavik howls and drops to the ground. But she’s acting. There is no pain.

_ Why? _


	7. Chapter 7

As it happens, curling up on the ground and pretending to be in agony is a special kind of agony of its own. The half-hour goes by incredibly slowly as she releases periodic whimpers and shouts, shaking when necessary.  _ Pain _ , she finds,  _ is difficult -- and boring -- to portray realistically. _ And the tube is  _ small _ , which makes her breath come short. Her spine impairs her, resenting being curled, and her hands fist themselves before relaxing, only to start the cycle again.

For the first few minutes, she expects pain to start and then build, but slowly, her concerns ease;  _ whatever glitch this is is a very very effective one. _

_ Clearly it must have started in the past hour, as David was subjected to this booth just this morning. But why is the one next to me working, and this one not? _

_ Or perhaps it  _ is _ working, and the pain training I received is more effective than I thought. _

She has no explanations, just mere speculation, and her thoughts turn over and over in her mind as she shakes and groans, cramming herself into the far side of the booth, and waits for her time to be over.   
  


Finally, it is.

The ensign flips the switch and Saavik lets her limbs relax, pretending the booth had overpowered her. She keeps her eyes slitted as the other ensign opens the booth and pulls her out by the shoulders. She rebels at the touch, though, stiffening as he grabs her.

As soon as she hits the ground, none too gently, she pretends to come alive again, sitting up slowly and blinking. She scrunches her face, look over at David, who slid out of the booth of his own accord and is facedown on the floor. She turns her head to face to the ensigns, who are not looking at her with concern but rather seem bored.  _ Unsurprising. _

She gets to her feet, sways, pretends her sense of balance has somehow disappeared. It’s not hard; her legs half-buckle from being cramped up for thirty minutes, surprising her. She steadies herself and looks David and the ensigns again, killing time until it will seem realistic that she can walk.

After about thirty more seconds, she stretches out one leg, the other, and then both arms at once. She then walks away, head up, not deigning to release a word.

Her thoughts are loud. As soon as Ilia’s shift is over, they need to talk. Something strange is going on in the ship if something as ingrained in the lifestyle as an Agony Booth has inexplicably stopped working, assuming it has. And has it? Her thoughts start over, and she shakes her head briefly, trying to quiet her mind.

It’s 0932; Ilia won’t be off her shift until 1200. Saavik decides to practice some martial arts until then, so she takes the closer turbolift to her room.

Her favorite knife is still strapped to her thigh, and her hand hovers near it as she walks down the hallways. it’s a medium-sized, symmetrical Vulcan blade, one she’s had since she was a child. A straight sehlat fang is embedded in the handle, sticking out the other end, so while it’s only immediately lethal from one end, it’s dangerous from both. Her other two primary weapons are a Vulcan lirpa and, of course, a phaser, though she was not issued one.

She reaches her room, unlocks and locks the door, and scans the place quickly. Once she’s satisfied there have been no intruders since the morning yeoman patrol, she crosses to her bed and reaches under it, where her lirpa is stuck to the top of the underside. She jerks it out and rests it across her upturned palms, watching the light of her cabin glint down it. It’s long, well-formed, and an especially satisfying creation. 

She hefts it and spins it around, whirling twice, and then stops herself short. A brief moment of dizziness, and then she spins in the opposite direction. Then she plants her feet again, places the lirpa on the floor, and walks over to one of her nightstand drawers, pulling it out and reaching behind it, where there’s a large ball of tough red leather. She uses it to strap the lirpa to her back and knots the leather in front of her, tight enough that the weapon will stay secure but loose enough that if she faces an attack in the hallway, she can immediately draw it.

She turns and leaves the room, locking the door behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

When she reaches the turbolift, the doors open to reveal a familiar face.

Ensign Richardson. He’s got a phaser.

She drops immediately to the ground, her Vulcan reflexes carrying her down before his human reflexes can pull the trigger. She rolls to the side, jumps to her feet, and pulls out her lirpa.

He steps forward and fires another shot, which she calculates, anticipates, and dodges, and it leaves a smoking hole in the wall where she was a second earlier. Seeing green, she uses the wall’s leverage lunge forward at him, lashing forward with her lirpa, forcing him to jump back to avoid being sliced. She fiercely presses her advantage, shoving the staff of the staff into his stomach and whirling it up and down rapidly as she tries to land a hit on him. She pulls back for a moment and as he raises his arm to fire another shot she swings the lirpa in a blisteringly fast arc, aiming the fan-shaped blade directly into his wrist.

His hand parts from his arm with a sickening crunch. He howls, shatteringly loud, and falls backward, hand cradling his new stump, crunching against the closed turbolift doors.

Saavik pulls back slowly, taking two steps backward and scanning the hallway for any more threats. There’s no-one. She swings the blade down to Richardson’s throat, a perfect reversal. He meets her eyes, coughs. Stepping forward, she wraps both hands around the shaft and thrusts the blade forward, snapping his cervical lordosis and embedding the lirpa for a moment in the floor below.

Then she walks away, blinks. There was green in her vision. Red blood is everywhere. She feels sick, violent.

Maybe she should eat. She’s tired from fighting. She hopes the cafeteria food has not yet been removed, but it likely has, considering the time.

Her steps aren’t quite steady as she walks back the way she’d come, to take the other turbolift to the cafeteria.


	9. Chapter 9

After sitting alone at a table for about half-an-hour, thinking and calming herself, Saavik sees David shakily enter the room. He’s carrying a box under his arm, but it’s not long enough to be a weapon, so it’s probably food from his quarters. She waves him over. 

He walks to her, his steps mostly controlled, and sits. He places the box on the table, opens it, and empties the food inside it across both of their plates. “It seems you’ve been providing me sustenance lately,” Saavik says, ensuring that their foods appear the same before taking a bite of hers.

“Well, it’s too late to eat here, so I just brought some stuff from my room.”

“Hoarder.”

“Bitch.”

They eat. The food is unremarkable, some sort of salad, but Saavik, previously calm, feels her heart rate start to rise again. “David,” she says. She briefly considers telling him that her Agony Booth was non-operational; is it possible his was also, and that he was acting too? But she remembers how quickly he dropped to the ground while she stood for a moment in confusion; clearly the problem resided with hers alone.

“Yeah?” he says, mouth full.

“I’m sorry that, on my account, you were subjected to the booth for longer.”

David swallows. “Alright. Thanks for your apology.” 

Saavik continues to regard him. “You seem oddly calm.”

“Well, I’m a little wiped out, as is understandable,” he snaps.

Saavik nods quickly and finishes her meal. Her skin is feeling prickly again, and she decides some more time alone will be the key to keeping her calm. “May I have your box, since you seem to have finished your meal?” she asks.

David shrugs and hands the box to her. “So now you’re stealing my stuff, too.”

“If you want it back, why did-”

“I was fuckin’ joking.” His mood seems to have shifted. He gestures. “Hey, this stuff is pretty good, huh?”

“The food? Yes. How did you come by it?”

“My, uh, mom. If you ever want any more, come by. I’m happy to take a random sample while you watch, for your trust issues. And I won’t be armed.”

“I don’t have ‘trust issues.’ I am rational and careful, not paranoid.”

“Listen, Saavik, you’re the most paranoid person I’ve ever met. You just know that you can just,” he places his palms in front of his face and drags them down through the air, exhaling as he does so, “Relax.”

Saavik purposefully doesn’t pay attention to his hands, since boys don’t interest her. She does note that he looks disappointed that her gaze stays on his face.  _ That was very low in subtlety, David.  _ “I know that I can relax,” she informs him, tone perfectly even.

He looks at the ceiling, a common mannerism of his. “You’re a little piece of work.”

“I don’t understand the expression, but judging by your tone, it’s not very positive.”

“It’s not. But I do like you. Take the food; have a good day, alright? I’m gonna go.”

“And me, as well.” She stands and leads the way to the door before stepping aside and letting him exit first, a parody of his Earth’s past ‘chivalry.’

He throws her a mock salute and leaves. She heads in the opposite direction, taking the long loop to the turbolift she was not thrown violently into. 

Instead of going directly to her room, she passes Sickbay first.

 

“Dr. Zxcyg,” she says coolly, stopping just inside the entrance. Remaining impassive and not starting to pace is suddenly difficult. 

“Lieutenant,” the doctor returns, clearly not remembering her name.

“I request a sedative.”

“Why?”

Saavik tries not to snap at xer. “I believe my blood pressure and body temperature are elevated, and I feel more emotional than is generally typical.”

“Right.” Dr. Zxcyg snaps xer fingers, and a nurse appears. “Mr. Gela, get this Vulcan a cold towel and a Zert.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Gela leaves and returns in moments with an unopened transparent bottle of small blue pills and a sodden piece of white cloth. He pointedly opens the new bottle and pours out one pill into his gloved hand, placing it atop the towel. He hands the two to Saavik.

Saavik regards both with equal suspicion, but she takes them and nods to the nurse and doctor before pivoting and leaving the area without a thank you.


	10. Chapter 10

Once back in her quarters, she examines the pill and takes it, placing the wet towel just under her occipital ridge. It drips wetness down her back, cooling her and giving her instant relief. She places two fingers on each wrist, checking her pulse. It starts to calm almost immediately; clearly, the Zert pill is effective. She spreads water over her wrist; it’s an efficient way to cool the body.

Then she waits and reads. In about an hour, there’s a knock on her door.

“Hey,” comes a voice through it. “It’s Ilia.”

Saavik draws her knife and goes to the door. She tucks her body out of the way and it opens; when she confirms that it is Ilia, she sheathes her knife again. 

Ilia comes in, heads straight for her bed, and throws herself across it in an inelegant sprawl. She wiggles into the comfort. “That feels  _ good _ .”

“Shift uneventful?” Saavik locks the door.

“Obviously.” Ilia sits up. “But it wasn’t for you. The Agony Booth.”

Saavik purses her lips. “I will talk about it later.” She doesn’t know whether or not to tell Ilia about the malfunction.

“Need a distraction?”

Saavik feels much better, almost perfectly calm, and her skin has stopped prickling. “Just conversation.”

Ilia sighs. “Alright, I’ll indulge you.”

Saavik crosses to the bed. “Ask me anything,” she offers. “I’ll call Trust Time.”

“Trust time.” Ilia laughs. “The name you gave it is stupid.”

“It’s  _ logical _ .”

“Aaaaaand that’s  _ why _ it’s stupid.”

“That statement is highly illogical, Ilia!”

Ilia cackles. “Knew it.”

“Were you purposefully trying to spark an emotional reaction in me?”

“Of course.” Ilia sits up. “It is your turn to answer, right?”

“Yes. Last Trust Time-”

Ilia snorts. Saavik jumps onto the bed and swats her. “Last time Trust Time was invoked, I wanted to know about Decker and why you keep his photo to throw darts at, as it seemed an inefficient use of your time.”

Ilia yawns. “And I told you that-”

“That it ‘amused’ you.”

“And that’d be it. Alright, so this time… tell me when exactly you decided you didn’t love Valeris.”

Saavik shrugs, removing her wet towel from around her neck. “It wasn’t any profound realisation. I analysed my feelings when I was around her, and I felt no connection I wished to act upon.”

“Didn’t you want to at least try?”

Saavik shakes her head. “I did not undergo  _ pon farr _ in the typical Vulcan method, not requiring the full ritual, and Valeris believed correctly that I could not satisfy her full ritual. She chose another, temporarily, and I believe she would rather be with him; however, he loved his own bondmate and only helped Valeris with her  _ pon farr _ out of a reluctant sense of duty; she had apparently done him a favor some years prior.”

Ilia nods. “You still might undergo it, though. Didn’t Spock have to, but late?”

“Yes. James T. Kirk was there to help him. I never got the full story, but it somehow involved… sand.”

Ilia laughs. “Sand? That’s a really weird — well, never mind. Each to their own. So non-Vulcans can help Vulcans through your thing? Then it doesn’t make sense that Valeris-“

“It’s possible she found my half-Romulan nature repulsive.”

Ilia is silent a moment. “Oh. Well, her loss.” She flashes a Saavik a wicked smile which Saavik ignores.

“Besides, though I doubt this factored into her decision much, I did not wish to aid her and cement our bonding. To answer your question, yes, non-Vulcans may assist Vulcans. But please, Ilia,” she says, her voice getting softer, “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I won’t,” says Ilia, and she shifts closer to Saavik, sliding over the sheets and placing her hand underneath the latter’s chin. “I may be more… voracious than you. And I may not care about you as much as you’d like, and I don’t really care about that as much as I should, either. But I would never, ever force you or trick you into anything you don’t want. That’s a promise.”

Saavik places her hand over Ilia’s, letting their skin rest against each other’s. It’s pleasurable, but she can feel herself feeling hotter, back to the way she felt before the medicine. “Thank you. I appreciate it more than I am presently able to articulate.”

Ilia nods and removes her hand. “Well, I’m going to go out to… do stuff.”

“Or,” Saavik says, knowing full well that by stuff she means people, “You could stay with me.”

Ilia raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yes.”

“How do you want it?”

Saavik leans over and whispers into her ear. Ilia breaks into a grin, catching both of her hands and rubbing her palms slowly over Saavik’s. Saavik tilts her head upward, smiles. Ilia grins and releases her, slowly manoeuvres her to the edge of the bed, situates her, and slides down onto the floor. She places her palms on top of Saavik’s thighs as she kneels in front of her. “You know, I don’t have any hair for you to hold onto.”

Saavik tugs Ilia’s hands into hers before placing them squarely on her own hips. “I think I’ll manage.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Okay,” says Ilia an hour later, lying on the bed next to Saavik with the coverlet long-since thrown to the floor, “Maybe you can move up to fourth.”

Saavik pokes her. “Maybe?”

“I gotta parse it out a bit, think. You, of all people, should understand it.”

Saavik exhales, nods. “Makes sense.”

“I have to go,” Ilia says. “I want to train.”

Suddenly, Richardson’s severed head flashes into Saavik’s mind, ripping through her mind like a punch. She curls in on herself for a moment, groans.

Ilia rolls onto her side. “Saavik, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No.” Saavik relaxes herself, trying furiously to erase the image. “I took a pill.”

“A  _ pill _ ? Why not a-”

“They stopped using hyposprays a long time ago; more people were poisoned than got better. I suppose it was just too easy for the doctors to commit crimes. Why didn’t you know?”

“I don’t get sick.”

“You must not, or by my calculations, you’d have approximately 300 STIs.”

Ilia whacks Saavik on the side of her head. “Uncalled for.”

“Why?”

“I don’t actually know.”

There’s a pause.

“Something’s wrong,” Ilia guesses. “You’re usually talking like an android again by now, and how you can do that after sex is something I’ll never understand, but I guess it’s just who you are. What is it?”

“Nothing I wish to share.”

“Fine, I call Trust Time.” She sits up. “Tell me.”

Saavik can’t break the rules of something she herself created. “I killed Ensign Richardson. With my lirpa. I took off his head.”

Ilia inhales sharply and hisses the air out through her teeth. “So that’s two.”

“One -- yes.” She remembers S’Parva; an accident, but still her fault, and guilt washes over her again. “Two.”

“It was in self-defense, no?”

“Yes. He had a phaser.”

“And you beat a  _ phaser _ with a bladed staff?”

“I did.”

“That’s -- wow. You must be incredibly good. That’s -- are you one of the best on Vulcan?”

Saavik stares at her, trying to suppress her disbelief. “Ilia,” she says, “I  _ killed _ him.”

“I know you did. But, as you’d say, it’s not logical to stay stuck in the past. He was trying to kill you; you fairly bested him in combat, and earned the right to live. He lost that right when he attempted murder.”

“I didn’t need to kill him. Just to beat him, to scare him, dissuade him from attempting violence on me again.”

“But you killed him, and it’s done. It’s  _ fine _ . I’ve killed five people since joining Starfleet. I never went out of my way to kill them, but I did it because I had to, because they were threats to me or one of my friends. I think you’re lucky to not have had to until now. You know that’s how it works here. You know what you signed up for.”

Saavik bites the tip of her tongue, tries to force her emotions down, but they are unusually difficult to wrestle. “I suppose,” she manages.

Ilia blinks. “It’s odd; I didn’t think you’d get emotional about it. I thought you were too rational for that.” 

Her tone is non-aggressive. She’s making an observation, not even trying to hurt Saavik with what she says. Yet somehow that stings worse. But she can’t let it sting, because Ilia’s  _ right _ .

Saavik leaves the bed and pulls on her clothes, face turned away. 

“Hey,” says Ilia, getting up, “What’s bothering you?”

“I think I need to think about the events of the day. In a word, I feel -- I  _ am _ \-- disquieted.”

Ilia tilts her head. “You’re surely not worried Richardson is gonna haunt you?”

“No!” she says vehemently. “Belief in malevolent spirits is the height of irrationality.”

Ilia takes a step back and folds her arms. “They exist.”

“Then you’re rather stupid, to blame your own misfortunes on things beyond your control, when everything is probably just your own fault.” She turns, irked that Ilia believes in such unsubstantiated concepts.

Ilia’s eyes are narrowed. She takes her uniform off the floor and starts to dress. “Maybe you’re rather stupid, to dismiss out-of-hand the beliefs of different cultures.”

“Ghosts, Ilia? The dead, not really dead, back to seek revenge on the living? It’s absurd. Do they transpose through solid matter, too?”

“Spirits exist on Delta. Some dead there do not rest, especially the murder victims.”

“You believe in spirits so you can continue to be fucking nonsensical even in death. Unbelievable. Don’t you see that it’s just wishful thinking? You don’t want people to die because you don’t want them gone, so you pretend you see them where you wish you did.”

“I hate you,” says Ilia, and suddenly her voice sounds choked. “Do you know-”

She angrily strides to Saavik’s bookshelf and rips the amulet she’d given her off the third shelf. “I gave this to you for your protection the day after S’Parva died here, so you’d have it the next time you spent the night in your own room. It protects you from spirits, from evil, and I gave you a huge one so you wouldn’t wear it and would leave it in your room instead, so you could be just a little more safe, and-”

Saavik cuts her off. “Take it back. There are no such things as spirits. That’s a piece of crystal, and nothing more, and besides, it’s ugly.”

“Take it back?  _ Gladly _ .” Ilia clenches so tightly Saavik’s half-worried the gem will shatter. “You’ve never even  _ been _ to Delta IV, and yet you find it so easy to say we’re ‘irrational.’ To me,  _ that’s _ what’s irrational.”

“Leave here and take your superstitions with you.” Saavik marches to the door and pushes Ilia sideways to unlock it. Then she grasps her by the wrist and bodily hauls her outside to the hallway, resisting the urge to kick her, too.

Ilia stumbles out, then turns back. She shakes her head. “You’re acting weird. I’ve never seen this before. But you know what? When you realise that I’m in the right, I’m going to demand an apology.”

“You? In the right?” Saavik glares, shakes her head, and steps back so the doors can close and separate them. She stomps to her bathroom, gathers up her white nightdress, and fumes. When she’s done in the sonic, she hurls herself across her bed, fists clenched.

When she sleeps, her dreams are violent. They are filled with spinning blades, S’Parva’s face, Ensign Richardson’s blood on the hallways and turbolift doors. Someone, far-off, is laughing at her, and ghastly, ghostlike faces seem to attack her throughout the night.


	12. Chapter 12

She rises early. Instead of going to get breakfast and risk facing Ilia, she eats what David left her. The previous conversation enters her mind as she eats, and while she was previously feeling almost apologetic, the longer she thinks, the angrier she gets. She paces around her room as she digests, cursing that she was removed from Bridge Duty and put on probation.

As time slides by, she feels increasingly shut in and unsatisfied. She’s frustrated, incredibly so, yet bereft of anything substantial to justify how she feels. _It’s possible that repressing my emotions has created this anger_ , she tells herself, but the thought just makes her grind her teeth. She wants to punch her cabin walls or have someone punch her.

There’s a knock on her door.

She draws her blade.

“Who is it?” she calls.

There’s a strangely long pause. “Ilia.”

 _Definitely her voice_. She stands with the blade out in front of her, in case it’s a trick, but when she allows the doors to open, Ilia’s familiar face is indeed before her.

She refuses to disarm herself, keeping the blade tightly in her hand. Ilia notices, but there’s preoccupation in her eyes.

“Saavik,” she says, “I know we fought.”

“Obviously,” she half-snarls.

Anger flits across Ilia’s face, but she shoves it away. “We’ll deal with that. There are more important things to talk about now, though. Ensign Richardson is going to be avenged. I heard it in the cafeteria, the one on this deck You know he was well-liked. Mario Marcelino, Jeanne Mori, others. Mori -- well, she has bridge duty with you, so you know her -- she’s charismatic, can get any ensigns she needs to do her dirty work. That brings the number up to, what, seven? Ten? That’s too many to fight off, even if I decide to back you. David -- he came over to me, told me to tell you what he was about to do, and then he stood up to them and defended you. It all seemed very theatrical to me, like he was doing it for some sort of credit with you, but he did it.” Ilia steps forward, lets the door close behind her, and stares piercingly into Saavik’s eyes. “I think they’re coming for you. Not today or tomorrow, because they have to organise. For better or worse, after killing both the people who attempted to kill you, you have a reputation for being dangerous. So they’re going to be careful. Saavik, we have to leave this ship -- and soon -- if you want to survive. And I know a way. But we have to go right now.”

“How?” Saavik snaps.

“Captain Esteban elected David and another lieutenant to beam down to Rigel XII. David told him that I should come, too, and Esteban said I might be useful, that I could use my assets to help persuade the miners to give us the crystals.”

“Assets? He wanted to use… your body? As a _commodity?!_ ” her anger transfers from Ilia to Esteban, and she suppresses a growl. _How fucking dare he._

“Yes, but I’m not going to do that. Saavik?” She waves her fingers in front of Saavik’s face. “Saavik, you can’t zone out now. Save your anger for later. Esteban gave me a phaser; as soon as David punched in the security codes for the craft -- and he was sloppy, because I saw him do it and memorised it instantly -- I stunned him and the other lieutenant. The shuttlecraft is ours, but we have to go _right now_.” She takes Saavik’s wrist. “Right now.”

“What happened to David?” Saavik asks, dimly. Even further back in her mind, she wonders why Esteban only ever gave important security codes to men.

Ilia hesitates.  
  
“What happened to him?!” Saavik shouts.

“I think Lieutenant Mori took him to an Agony Booth.”

Saavik fights her rage, unsure of where to direct it, and it bounces inside her head and boils. “Fuck,” she finally manages. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Screw him! Actually, don’t! He’s awful. But you have to stop caring so much about other people-“

“Says the girl saving my ass-“

“If you want to complain, I’m ditching you right now. Don’t ask questions! Just move!” Ilia grasps Saavik’s wrist and tries to drag her towards the door.

“No!” Saavik shouts back. “I’m _not_ leaving without David! He defended me in the cafeteria -- did you?!”

“Oh, my Gods.” Ilia clenches her fists. “I am not risking everything for that pathetic piece of-“

“You said the cafeteria on this deck, right?!”

Ilia sighs in defeat. “Yes.”

Saavik gives her a quick nod and sprints out of her room, tearing around the curve of the hallway and out of sight. It’s the fastest Ilia has ever seen her run.

“I’LL BE WAITING YOU-KNOW-WHERE,” she shouts after her, as loud as she can muster, and then she turns and runs too, taking the turbolift down to where the shuttlecraft rests.


	13. Chapter 13

Once at the shuttlecraft, Ilia relaxes slightly. She slowly unclenches her fingers, one by one, and pulls out her phaser, setting it to kill. Saavik will owe her one, but she’s not leaving without her.

 

Three minutes later, with Red Alert sounding, Saavik arrives, pulling an unconscious David along the ground. She shouts as she approaches, her face flushed a dangerous-looking green. “GO! GO! ILIA, GO!!”

Four officers are sprinting towards the shuttlecraft behind her, phasers in their hands. They’re running too fast to fire at the same time, but Ilia estimates their trajectory; they’ll be at the shuttlecraft in moments.

She fires at one, hits him ( _ six _ ), then snaps into action, skidding to the front of the small space vehicle. She smashes her palm on the side of the craft to open the door and pulls herself to the controls. Holding the door open just long enough for Saavik to drag herself and David in, she hits the ignition and shoves the lever forward, jerking the shuttlecraft into motion. Within seconds, they’re shooting from the dock and out into the star system, the three remaining officers blown out into space behind them.  _ Nine. _

David crumples to the floor the second they’re inside.

“Why did you go back for him?” Ilia half-growls, abusing the acceleration. “This thing can barely make Warp One, and if I don’t zigzag enough, the ship is going to fire at us and then we’ll all be-“

“Dead.”

“Exactly. This is not the time to be selfless, Saavik, and your stupidity didn’t just affect you! If you hadn’t run back for him, you wouldn’t have set off Red Alert, and now four officers are dead, and that’s just unnecessary!”

“Oh,” Saavik says, her breath still heightened, “So now you care about them.”

Ilia grinds her teeth and tears one of her three necklaces off her neck, throwing it at the side of Saavik's head. “We almost _died_.”

“I see your point,” Saavik says, catching the necklace, and Ilia wants to throttle her for being able to stay rational. “But I could not leave him to die any more than you could leave me. And you couldn’t leave me, even though, logically, you stood a greater chance of escaping if you did.”

“I might have died for your selflessness, so don’t forget it,” Ilia snaps in response.“If the ship fires photon torpedoes, we’re doomed, so shut up. I have to drive.”

She drops her eyes to the console, jerks down another lever. She veers port, then starboard, then port, and soon, they’re out of range.

“It’s odd that nobody is firing or following us,” Saavik says, crossing to the window and falling against the side of the craft as Ilia swerves it again. “Do you think-“

“They probably don’t want to damage their shuttlecraft,” Ilia says shortly. “I told you to be quiet.”

“We’re safe,” Saavik says after some time. “We must be.” She crosses to the navigator’s position. “Look. We’re out of range, and the scanners say the _Grissom_ is not pursuing us.”

“They’re probably calling the Empire to get someone else on it.”

Saavik looks at the stars passing by. “Most likely.”

Behind them, David stirs. Saavik turns.

David is getting to his feet smoothly. Too smoothly.

Before she can react, he pulls out a phaser. “Step away from the console, Lieutenants,” he says with an eerie grin. “You’re more than a little bit off course for the escape I’m planning.”

Saavik freezes. David’s grin disappears. “Hands in the air. Both of you.”

Ilia shoots a dagger glare at Saavik, vacating her seat.

“David,” Saavik murmurs softly. “David, why?”

“God, you’re so easy,” he scoffs. “I befriended you; you were so _lonely_ , Saavik. So desperate for a _friend_ , not just someone to deal with you when you’re horny.”

He jerks his phaser to port, ordering them into the corner of the craft. He goes to the console, effortlessly locks in a new course, and lifts a small device from his pocket that he slaps onto the conn. “Nobody lives on just sex and violence. People need _trust_ to thrive, more than they even need food. You can’t even tell how _you’re_ feeling, Saavik, so there was no way you could guess anything about me. Ilia was the challenge, but girls are easy to fool. They’re all so emotional; really, they need to take a page out of mens’ books and think with their heads, not-“

Saavik throws herself to the ground, tackling David’s knees and knocking him backwards. His phaser discharges, leaving a dying flash and a dent in the ceiling. She’s on his chest in a second, hitting him across the face again and again and again, breaking his nose and still hitting him, blood caking her fist as she hits him, again and again and again. She strikes him furiously, two hits a second, three, mashing his face in farther and farther, teeth clenched, body taught, as many hits as she can manage.

“Saavik,” she hears distantly. She feels a hand on the back of her shirt, pulling her back from the boy underneath her. She reaches for his face and is jerked back.

She flips around, lashing out at the face above her, tries to stand, and is kicked to the floor. She crashes against the side of the craft, vision hazy. Her skin prickles powerfully. She sees Ilia above her, dimly, and barely recognises her. She’s saying something, but it sounds like distant buzzing, echoing too far back in her mind. Saavik closes her eyes, fists her hands, and slips backward to where things are darker, calmer. The insides of her eyelids paint themselves a lurid bloody green.


	14. Chapter 14

She comes to inside a plain white room. There are no windows and just one door, emblazoned with the Empire’s dagger insignia. She sits up; the room sways. She feels her eyes leaking.  _ Tears _ .

Rage fills her. She leaps to her feet and throws herself against the door, reeling back and bouncing to the floor. She stands and tries again, again, ignoring the pain in her shoulder now radiating down her back.

A voice suddenly suffuses the room. It’s familiar. Saavik staggers back.

“Saavik, you are now aboard the ISS  _ Enterprise _ . This is Lieutenant Valeris.”

Saavik looks up at the ceiling of the room, unable to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. She wails up at it, digging her nails into her cheekbones.

Valeris pays her no heed. “I have calculated that you are currently-”

“SHUT UP,” Saavik screams. “GET OUT OF HERE, GET OUT OF MY LIFE, GET  _ OUT _ -”

“It seems I am correct, then,” Valeris surmises coolly, cutting off Saavik’s shouts with no effort at all. “You are indeed in the throes of  _ pon farr _ .”


	15. Chapter 15

Saavik reels back, landing hard on the floor, head pounding. 

“I will be in your room with a sedative,” Valeris continues. “The peak of your symptoms will approach in approximately 27 Terran solar hours. I will provide food. If you can, I suggest you sleep. When the mating drive overtakes you, I will be ready.”

The intercom clicks off.

Saavik places her head in her hands. She feels green, red, murky brown. Her skin has gone from prickling to hurting and her head is cloudy; she is angry. And vaguely turned-on, but that’s secondary. She digs her fingernails into her palms, shakes her head to the left and to the right. She feels sick, and something’s off, really, really off, skewed, incorrect, but her brain is water. Groaning faintly, she leans her head back against the wall and scrapes herself into the corner of her cell, where she pulls her knees up and rests her head. Her hair blocks out the brightness, and she finally slips into sleep.   
  


When she wakes, Valeris is kneeling in front of her, her fingers on the sides of Saavik’s face.

She snaps, throwing herself at Valeris, knocking her backward to the ground. The meld snaps. 

“Fuck you,” Valeris spits, dropping under Saavik’s blow and rolling to her feet. She grasps her phaser off the sterile ground, aims it at Saavik’s head. “I brought you food, you ungrateful Romulan bitch. And this is what you do?”

“You invaded my head!” Saavik shouts.

“I merely woke you up. Do you think I want to be in your head with you? You asshole, you fucking cunt!” Saavik cringes from her words, but she just continues. “You think I wanted to be bonded to a half-breed? No! But I’m here for you! This is going to affect me, too, and I don’t want to do it, but I have to fucking keep you alive!”

“I guess without Captain Spock behind you, watching you be the  _ perfect _ protégée, everyone sees how fucking disgusting you are!”

Valeris, not dropping the phaser, leans closer to Saavik’s face. “I shouldn’t have to be pretty to you.”

“Believe me,” Saavik tells her, almost choking on her own saliva, “You’re not. Ever.”

In a show of supreme effort, Valeris pulls herself under control, returning to her earlier Vulcan placidity. “Eat,” she says, instead of reacting. “It’s logical.”

Saavik looks to her side, where a tray is piled with colored cubes and familiar Vulcan greens. Her head is too cloudy to remember the names, but she can sense their taste; she hates them.

She glares at Valeris. “I think my hormonal imbalance is coming in waves,” she manages, fighting the wrath in her head with every word. “I think just being around you is turning me off.”

Valeris scoffs loudly, then collects her features into impassivity. “Enjoy your meal.”

Without another word, she turns and leaves.   
  


Saavik looks at the tray. Utensils, she notes, have also been provided.

Resisting the urge to stab her eye out with the fork, she forces her food down. As she eats, the fork starts to tremble in her hand. She clenches her fist, bending it, and hurls it across the room. It hits the white wall and bounces off, and she shouts at it, a single note of rage, before shoving a cube into her mouth with her fingers. She clenches and unclenches her hands and bangs her head into the wall. Something is building inside her, a sickening crescendo, and it seems she’s only a passenger along the ride.


	16. Chapter 16

“Saavik!” Ilia shouts. She lunges to her, grasps her shirt, and hauls her away from David. Struggling, Saavik reaches for him again with her split knuckles, her green blood mixing with David’s red, and Ilia wrenches her backward again, avoiding her violently flailing limbs. Saavik tries to pull away, to stand, and Ilia kicks her swiftly in the stomach. 

As Saavik crashes against the sides of the shuttlecraft, Ilia suppresses her guilt. She kneels down beside her, leans over her face, watches her purple-shadowed eyelids flutter weakly open and shut. Her pupils are unnaturally dilated, huger than Ilia’s ever seen them; it looks like she’s been drugged or has gone insane.  _ Something’s very wrong. _ “Saavik,” she urges, “Saavik, come to. Saavik, wake up, come back, you’re sick, come to, please-”

She stops abruptly when Saavik’s eyes seal themselves shut and her body relaxes against the floor.

She turns and looks over to David. His nose is flattened, almost obliterated, replaced by a lump of caking red. More blood trickles over his chapped lips and runs in tiny rivulets down his chin.  _ He must taste it. _ Bruises are forming around both his eyes, and his hands tremble. He can’t even seem to speak. His mouth gapes in a ghastly smile, and as he weakly raises his head, still more blood spills over his bottom teeth. His smile is cracked, two pieces missing. He leers with his broken teeth as Ilia tries to change the course he plotted, tries to tear his strange device off, tries every frequency to call for help, presses every button on the console. He grins as she sits back in the pilot’s chair, as she places her head in her hands, as she stands, reaches for his phaser, sets it to kill, and shoots him in the forehead.

Ilia takes off her outer uniform shirt and throws it over his face. Slowly, it soaks through redder.  _ Ten. _

She sits down next to Saavik and brushes a strand of her hair back to where it belongs.

Then there’s nothing more to do than wait for the shuttlecraft to arrive at its destination, whatever it may be. Next to Saavik, she watches stars streak by. The craft stinks of recent death.


	17. Chapter 17

The craft flies silently, coldly. Soon, a ship comes into view, white, gleaming, and familiar. A refit Constitution-class. A ship Ilia used to serve aboard. The  _ Enterprise. _

Within moments, it has locked a tractor beam onto the craft. A few minutes later, just as Ilia estimates them to be in beaming range, she hears the transporter’s sound and turns to see Saavik dissolve into white dots, vanishing from the floor. 

_ I’m next. _ She looks up at the ceiling, her eyes avoiding David’s body.  _ Will they take him too? _

She imagines Saavik arriving unconscious aboard the _Enterprise_ , imagines the crew hauling her off to gods-knows-where. _Imprisoning her? Killing her? She’s sick -- oh Gods, she’s_ _really, really sick-_

Then the transporter has caught her. There’s black for a moment, something like rushing water in her ears. In seconds, she’s dizzy, standing on a transport pad, face-to-face with a pale-skinned, dark-haired Vulcan woman with the ugliest haircut she’s ever seen.

“Welcome aboard,” the Vulcan says. She reaches for Ilia’s shoulder but is stopped by a deep male voice. 

“There is no logical reason to enact violence at this time.” An older, bearded Vulcan man steps into the light, giving the Vulcan woman a disapproving look.

The Vulcan woman steps back, folds her arms behind her back, and nods. “Yes, Captain Spock.”

“You were going to nerve-pinch me,” Ilia says, half in-stupor. “Why did you -- wh…” Her eyes snap to the Vulcan man. “You’re Saavik’s mentor!”

He inclines his head wordlessly.

“Why are you letting her take her?” she points to Valeris. “Who’s that? Why am I here? Why did David-”

“Cease, please,” The Vulcan woman says calmly. “I was unaware you were unacquainted with my appearance, but surely you are not unfamiliar with my existence. I am Lieutenant Valeris, betrothed from childhood to Lieutenant Saavik. I am here to assist her through  _ pon farr _ .”

“But -- she told me she didn’t require the full ritual -- what?”

“For half-Vulcans such as myself and Lieutenant Saavik, there is no set timeline for the occurrence of the Vulcan rites of passage. It seems that Saavik is fully coming of age in the Vulcan manner only now.”

“The biology of Vulcans,” says Ilia vaguely. “Why did she not know she was going to have to -- to do the -- to go through the --” she gestures her arms in front of her, mimes something that’s probably obscene by their standards, “The thing?”

“Likely she was not aware herself.” Valeris looks Ilia up and down, and Ilia jerks her chin up further, takes pride in her stance. “I take it you are one of Saavik’s compatriots?” she asks.

“I’m her lover,” says Ilia stoutly, staring into her hazel eyes. “And you’re a bitch.”

“You may nerve-pinch her,” says Captain Spock.

“Uh, no, you may not!” Ilia steps sideways, dodging Valeris’s hand, and edges off the transporter. “You had David betray us -- you had us come here --  _ what were you thinking? _ ”

“I needed Saavik to arrive here before she died of her symptoms. I knew she would not have come here of her own volition, since she, as I’m sure you know, dislikes me. She would not have listened to me, and therefore I used David, her ‘friend,’ to convince her -- or trick her if it became necessary. It became necessary, or she would have died.”

Ilia shakes her head. “No wonder Saavik hated you.”

Valeris tilts her head. “You have no evidence of my personal character; just secondhand accounts.”

“Firstly, Saavik can’t lie. Secondly, I would believe anything she even implied over anything you say outright.”

“Odd,” says Valeris. “It seems you are jealous of me.”

“I’m not jealous of you,” Ilia lies. “But I think it’s irrational. Saavik loves me-”

Valeris raises an eyebrow a millimeter. “Does she?”

Ilia remembers Saavik dragging her out of her bedroom, sees the anger in her eyes when Ilia voiced her belief in spirits, remembers how different they are at their cores. “I don’t know,” she confesses. “But she’s told me many times she doesn’t love you. Why she will have to -- to be bonded to you -- do you even like her?”

“I  _ am _ bound to her, so my ‘feelings’ are irrelevant.”

“That’s unhealthy. But why should Saavik have to marry you?”

“It is the Vulcan way,” Captain Spock answers. “Come with me.” His tone indicates that if she resists, she will be punished, so she submits.

“By the way,” Ilia says, as Valeris takes her by the arm, “David’s dead. I shot him in the face.”

Valeris doesn’t even bat an eye. “Unfortunate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes, I would really appreciate some comments, but I love you all for reading this. <3


	18. Chapter 18

Ilia finds herself in a containment chamber, force-field separated from the hallway. They have allowed her a trip to the sonic and have given her a new, clean uniform. Though she knows it must be identical, it feels scratchier than the ones she owns. Her necklaces and spiked headband have been confiscated and, she knows, probably broken into pieces.

She is totally alone. She knows she has to get to Saavik.

There’s one way she knows. Only one way, but it has a decent chance of working, if the ensigns on the _Enterprise_ are like they were the last time she were here.

It seems she’ll be using her body after all.

She eyes the ensign guarding her cell. Slowly, she approaches him, pulling her skirt from her waist down to her hips and lifting her crop-top slightly to expose more of her perfectly-toned stomach.

She gets as close to him as the force-field will permit, and he turns to look at her.

He looks her up and down. “Lieutenant,” he says.

“Lieutenant,” she replies, a flirty half-smile at the right corner of her mouth.

“I -- I’m an ensign.”

“Oh?” Ilia pretends to be surprised. “From your bearing, the way you carry yourself, I never would have guessed. Do you plan to be a captain?”

“Someday.”

“If you ever need a Captain’s Woman, contact me,” she says, making it sound like she’s joking lightly and not lying through her teeth. “You’re hot.”

“You think so?”

In reality, the young guard looks like the type of person she’d nudge Saavik to point and laugh at; he’s the Human equivalent of an overcooked white vegetable with a mop glued to its top.

“Yes,” she tells him. “I’d show you -- well, nevermind.”

She flutters her eyelashes once -- _don’t overdo it_ \-- and retreats to the back of her cell, where she stretches upward and then lies down across the bench, pulling her hands from her hips up to her collarbone, flattening them along her slim sides and up her breasts. She lets her legs gap a little as she lies there, just wide enough for the ensign to picture himself between them.

She exhales toward the ceiling, sneaks a look at her guard. Indeed, that seems to be exactly what he’s thinking.

She adjusts her skirt, pretending to have forgotten about the ensign. She places her hands down, folds them over her crotch, every move calculated to be as tantalising as possible. She drums her fingers where they are, looks at the ensign again. His eyes are wide; he looks like he’s drinking her in. It’s clear what he’s imagining. His eyes are fixed on her slowly moving fingers. _Good._

She turns to look at him, sits up, legs still wide. “What? You’re staring!” she gives a bit of a giggle, crossing and uncrossing her legs at the knee. “That’s a rude way to treat a lady.” She looks innocently at the corner of her chamber. “Not that I’m much of a lady, as you’d find out. Don’t you want to have a conversation? I must confess that I find you...”

She stands, walks over to him so the inch of force-field is the only thing separating them, arcs her neck and lips toward his face. “Ravishing.”

His pupils are wide. He’s gone. He presses the button on the wall and is in her cell in a heartbeat, shoving her backward, seeking her lips frantically, his hands scrabbling for her ass and pushing her hard against him.

_Oh, now what?_

She pretends to submit, forces a moan from her throat, and the second his hands fumble for her skirt’s waistband she twists her hips sideways as powerfully as she can and tears his hold from her, spinning and kicking him in the side.

He starts to stagger and she ducks and punches him in the balls and he tips over, and the second he’s on the ground she snatches up his phaser and slams it onto his forehead, knocking him out.

She looks; the forcefield is, of course, gone. She readjusts her clothing, steps primly outside the containment chamber, and turns the forcefield back on, locking the ensign inside.

She sets the phaser to Kill. _Time to look for Saavik._


	19. Chapter 19

She walks through the hallways on guard; she doesn’t know how many crewmembers will recognise her as not belonging to the _Enterprise_. Her uniform is clean; she lacks her Deltan accessories. As long as she does not bleed, she is indistinguishable from a Human with a recently-shaved head. As a result, she decides to walk as if she belongs here; after all, if any of the crew is aware there is a prisoner on board, they would expect her to be, well, imprisoned.

 _First order of business is to find Saavik, and Valeris and Captain Spock might be the only people who know where she is. I know where Spock is, but I would have no luck forcing information out of him, which just leaves Valeris. Since she was not on the_ Enterprise _the last time I served here, she could be anywhere._

_She’s a Vulcan. If I were a Vulcan, who had kidnapped another Vulcan, where would I take her?_

She realises quite suddenly that she’s thinking like Saavik. _I’ll have to be logical for both of us._

Two yeomen pass along the halls; they don’t give her much of a glance. Relief floods her.

 _If I were Valeris, I’d take Saavik to a containment chamber, but she clearly isn’t in one._ Which means there’s really only one other possibility; she’s in Valeris’s room.

Not knowing which deck her room is in, she decides to go to the cafeteria. Valeris will have to show up there sooner or later, and that’s when Ilia can attack her and force her to tell where Saavik is.

 _How long until someone notices I’ve escaped?_ She doesn’t know.

She remembers where the cafeteria is, and as she makes her way through the _Enterprise_ , she forces herself not to be furtive. As she approaches, she braces herself for the onslaught of stares she’ll surely find; judging by the slowly dimming lighting of the ship, it’s almost 0600, meaning many will be eating their ‘evening’ meal. The doors whoosh open for her, and she enters the room.

It’s around 3/4ths full, Humans and Deltannoids mixed, and it seems almost… friendly. It’s so unlike the environment on the _Grissom_ — and so unlike her previous experiences aboard the _Enterprise_ — that it gives her pause. Then again, during the brief time she was aboard the ship, it was Willard Decker, not Spock, who was captaining. She looks around the room again; though the atmosphere is still somewhat tense, it is not outright hostile — people are freely _talking,_ even across tables. There are very few people sitting alone.

She becomes one of them, though, taking the last remaining empty table at the back of the room. No matter how long she has to wait for Valeris to show, she will not move from the spot. She fixes her eyes on the door.

It doesn’t take that long. The doors whoosh open and Valeris enters, alone, and heads directly to the replicators. Ilia resists the urge to sprint across the room and punch her directly into them. Instead, she watches as Valeris puts in a card and takes out a meal of some coloured cubes and a green mush Ilia is too far away to make out. Slowly, careful to stay out of Valeris’s line of sight, she stands and makes her way closer, watching as Valeris takes the tray and sits alone at a table in front of and diagonal from Ilia’s.

She does not eat. Instead, she quickly scans everyone around her, and as her gaze gets close, Ilia puts her head down and hopes for the best.

Valeris’s gaze has passed right over her when she raises her head. _How often people only see what they expect to._

Something about the way Valeris sits and watches others says Suspicious, loud and clear. _Vulcans are not subtle._

_Deltans, however, are._

She continues to watch. After a moment, Valeris reaches under her skirt and lifts out a tiny vial full of a clear liquid.

She scans the room again; Ilia ducks again.

When she looks back at Valeris, the vial is gone, and she’s leaving her spot. She takes her full tray towards the door, not the disposal chute. Though the food looks no different, Ilia is willing to bet that Valeris just dumped whatever chemical she had in her vial all over it. And she’s also willing to bet, from Valeris’s suspicious manner and the fact that she’s not eating it, that it’s something toxic.

 _And she’s taking it to Saavik._ It’s the only thing that makes sense. Saavik, who is already sick, who is probably weak from fighting the symptoms of _pon farr_. The knowledge — the sudden danger — hits her like a wall.

And so does a memory.

 _  
“_ Pon farr _is not a laughing matter,” Saavik says, eyes narrow._

_“Nothing is, for you,” Ilia replies, half-laughing. “Hey, she interjects, “Is there any way to trigger it artificially? Or delay it? Or does it just, wham, hit you, and then you scream a lot and hump walls or something until someone agrees to do the do with you?”_

_“We don’t discuss it,” Saavik says clippedly, “And nobody humps any walls.”_

_“You didn’t answer my other questions,” Ilia notes, amused._

_“Since it’s a hormonal imbalance, there are certain chemicals that can trigger symptoms, hormones, reactions. More than a single dose of exposure would be necessary, I’m sure. They’re on the black market…”_  


Ilia freezes. Her hands clench against the flat surface of the table; her knuckles whiten. _Oh, my Gods._

 _Valeris. Valeris, who Saavik says hates her, is trying to artificially trigger Saavik’s_ pon farr _. Trying to make Saavik sick, violent, overcome with hormones she might not even naturally have, as a half-Romulan._

 _And David. David, who spent time with Saavik — and Saavik, who trusted him— he must have given her something to start all this, some food, something. And Saavik, alone with Valeris during her_ pon farr _, where Valeris could do anything to her while she’s in that state —_

_I have to warn her._


	20. Chapter 20

As soon as Valeris leaves, Ilia follows. The hallways are more crowded now, people returning from shifts and people who have finished their meals mingling, and she can immediately see why Valeris opted to dose the food in the cafeteria rather than in the open. The more crowded hallways aid her as she tails Valeris, so far behind her that if she turned and saw, Ilia would have enough of a headstart to escape.

 _She’s going to the turbolift._ Ilia swears. _There’s no way to know where she’s heading from there._

She sees Valeris half-turn to the right and immediately steps against the left wall, hearing Valeris’s shrill voice order two ensigns away from the lift with the words, “Lieutenants first!”

Ilia shakes her head in disgust. The ensigns run, and Valeris steps into the lift. The second the doors close, Ilia sprints over to it, just in time to hear Valeris’s muffled voice say, “Deck six.”

_Deck six?_

She becomes aware of some whispering behind her, and turns, her stomach dropping. Nobody is looking at her like she’s an escaped prisoner, however; instead, most of them look amused.

“Almost caught the turbolift,” Ilia says offhand, and immediately turns sideways and follows the bend in the hallway to be out of their sight.

Travelling all the way to the other end of the ship, she knows, will significantly increase her chances of being recognised and put back in confinement — but she realises she doesn’t care, as long as she reaches Saavik first. _It’s her life versus my court-martial. And besides, I did nothing wrong._

She starts the route the other turbolift quickly, as fast as she can manage without appearing suspicious. A few glances catch her, noticing her because of her increased pace, and one sticks on her. She keeps going, forcing herself not to walk faster and confirm any suspicions.

“Excuse me,” says a voice behind her, “Would you mind turning around?”

_Fuck._

__

She turns, plastering a smile on her face, grateful again that her head tattoos are gone, that she lacks any jewellery or makeup that usually characterise her appearance. _Will it be enough?_

__

A short, Human junior grade lieutenant in a wheelchair is looking up at her. “Hey,” she says. “Are you-“

__

“Please,” Ilia fake-laughs cutting her off, “Tell me you aren’t going to ask me if I’m the Deltan prisoner. You’d be the third person today!”

__

“Prisoner?” the Human asks, laughing, “What prisoner? We haven’t visited a planet in days.”

__

Ilia stands there for a moment, stupefied. _Does the crew not know their ship just kidnapped two people?! Valeris is up to some deep shit._  “It’s a… book character,” she says faintly.

__

“Oh. Which book?”

__

“The…” Ilia thinks frantically, “The Adventures of the… Deltan Prisoner.” She itches to make a run for the turbolift.

__

The Human smiles. “I’ve never heard of that one. Anyway, I was going to ask if you’re in a hurry; I was going to suggest you take one of my passes.” She opens up one of her wheelchair’s arms and hands Ilia a silver chip with the words, “Captain’s Priority” emblazoned on it. “It’ll let you go first.”

__

Ilia looks at her strangely. “Why are you giving me this?”

__

The Human looks surprised. “To help you. Do you not want it?”

__

“No, I do. Thank you,” she says. “Thank you very much.”

__

She holds the chip in front of her, far in front of her in case it’s a trick, sprinting down hallway after hallway. When people see her chip, they get out of the way; it’s like magic. _Just because one person wanted to help me. Help, unselfish help_ , Ilia realises, _is so uncommon on the_ Grissom _._ The thought disquiets her.

__

She finally arrives at the lift. The doors open immediately, scanning the chip, and she slips in.

__

There are two other people already in the lift. Seeing the chip, though, they give her brief, tight smiles, and leave.

__

“Deck six,” she says, straightening her skirt and re-checking her phaser. The doors swish closed and she starts up to Saavik.

__


	21. Chapter 21

Deck six is empty, eerily silent.  _ Valeris is already gone. _ Ilia steps slowly,defensively, ready for an attack at any minute.

Very faintly, she hears a clatter break the stillness of the air. She breaks into a run towards it, phaser out in front of her. She skids around the bend in the hallway, almost falling over, and sprints the rest of the stretch, all the way to —

A series of doors where the Agony Booths should be.

There are five, evenly-spaced far apart, suggesting they open onto large rooms. She has no idea which one the clatter came from and paces in front of them, waiting for another noise.

She hears a faint thud. It’s most likely the fifth door, and she approaches it slowly.

She places her head gently against it and hears no more sound.

She waits a full minute. Then, “Saavik?”

There’s no response.

“Saavik!” she shouts.

Still nothing.

She aims her phaser for the seam in the door, turning on the beam and attempting to melt it open. The door begins to smoke, but holds steady. An alarm begins to blare.

The person inside the door — and Ilia suddenly hopes it’s not Saavik, but knows it must be — starts to scream at the sudden sound.

Ilia backs up across the hallway. This will break every rule on the ship and maybe her feet, but she doesn’t care.

She takes a step and launches herself off her back foot, bringing her feet towards her chest in midair, and crashes into the smoking indent she left in the doors.

She hits into it with a jarring slam and falls directly to the floor. _Any second, security'll come running._

She rolls onto her stomach and forces herself to her feet, ignoring the pain. Then she tries again, pressing herself against the wall and taking a single sprint step and jettisoning from the ground, and this time when she slams against the door, it cleaves around her. The metal shrieks in protest as she crashes through it.

Every inch of her body sears as she slams to the floor. She looks around the room she’s found herself in.

Saavik, next to an empty plate, is hunched in the corner, still screaming.

Ilia’s next to her in a moment, pulling Saavik’s face upward. Her pupils are even huger,, and she’s holding herself absolutely stiff. Ilia forces her eyes down to Saavik’s, forces her to _look_ , and something seems to register within her consciousness. The screaming stops.

“Saavik,” whispers Ilia, “This is fake.”

Saavik blinks. She seems to calm slightly. “Wh-“

Ilia listens closely, hears footsteps. “Saavik,” she says, voice hurried, “You told me once that there are chemicals used to trigger _pon farr_ . They’ve been in your food the whole time.” She grabs the plate, holds it in front of her. “Valeris is _poisoning_ you, making you undergo _pon farr_ — Saavik, do you understand me?”

Saavik shakes her head faintly, and her body starts to almost vibrate. She reaches out to touch the plate. “The —“

Ilia opens her mouth, but before she can say anything Saavik lunges at her, knocking her to the floor and blanketing her body, right as a phaser’s stun beam slams into the wall right where Ilia had been sitting.

Valeris stands in the doorway. She holds a phaser in her hand and looks absolutely murderous.

Instinct keeps Ilia pinned to the ground as Saavik slowly rises.

Saavik takes a step over to Valeris, stands directly in front of her. Ilia can see that she’s vibrating all down her body. Her hands flap for a moment until she pins them to her sides. Her back is taut.

“Valeris,” she chokes.

“Saavik,” says Valeris. “I can see that the peak of your symptoms is approaching in mere hours. Did this Deltan-“

“You know my goddamned name,” Ilia snaps up at her.

Valeris points the phaser down at her. “This does not concern you. Quiet, or I’ll stun you.” She turns back to Saavik. “Did she attempt to assist you? You must know it’s too early. Really, Saavik, I expected better.” Valeris shakes her head. “But I will help you through this, at great personal cost. You have, after all, nobody else who will.”

“You will not help me through this,” Saavik says, her voice still clenched. Her stance is that of a hunting animal. “This is not my natural state. You have put me here.”

Valeris takes a step backward, then scoffs. “A ridiculous accusation to make about your future wife.”

“Very well. Did you or did you not,” every word is forced, “Tell David to give me food laced with a chemical, the same chemical you gave me in my food today?” She pauses, inhales, “Did you or did you not intentionally trigger the state that I’m in?”

Valeris folds her arms. “I’ve made my lack of feelings for you clear. Why would I put you in _pon farr_?”

Saavik is silent for a moment, and Ilia can see her wrestle for an answer. Then she jerks her head up; she’s found one. “To kill me.”

“What?”

“To kill me!” Saavik shouts. “The Vulcan philosophy of life forbids killing, unless it is in self-defense. You would have to set up a situation in which I would attack you. And you know, considering my abysmal lack of attraction to you, that if you placed me in the _pon farr_ state, I would see you as a challenger rather than a mate, and I would attempt to kill you!”

Ilia remembers that Vulcans can’t lie. She looks at Valeris, who is turning a dark green.“You have absolutely no evidence to substantiate your claims,” she spits.

“I don’t need evidence.” Saavik steps so close to Valeris they’re almost nose-to-nose, tilts her head, and lifts her chin. She looks uncontrollable, absolutely dominant. “I need choice. And now I know I have it. I choose _kal-if-fee_.”


	22. Chapter 22

Valeris blanches. “You can’t,” she says. “You can’t choose it because your  _ pon farr _ symptoms will stop shortly.”

“I can,” snaps Saavik. She spreads her fingers, clenches them into a fist, and spreads them again. She can hear that her voice is low, dangerous, still unlike herself, and thoughts of flying at Valeris and choking her into the wall take up half her mind. She is aware of almost nothing. “If my symptoms stopped now, everyone would know they were artificially instigated. I’ll pretend I’m still in  _ pon farr _ — it’s not lying if I don’t say anything. You tell Captain Spock that I chose  _ kal-if-fee _ , and we go to Vulcan, and we fight.” She arcs her neck. “One of us comes out of it alive; may the best woman win.”

Valeris steps backward again.  _ She looks nervous. The sight is very pleasant.  _ Saavik curls her lips into another bestial smile. “Admit it,” she snarls, “I bested you.”

“There is no creature anywhere in the galaxy I loathe more than I loathe you,” Valeris says, voice masterfully calm. “From childhood, I have been bound to you. When my  _ pon farr _ came, I could have chosen  _ kal-if-fee _ myself, but I was worried that in the fight, you would kill whoever I chose to challenge you. My whole life I’ve hated you; don’t you see that this was my only way out?” She holds out her phaser. “I am a Vulcan, more Vulcan than you. I abhor violence, and this was my last alternative. You have just taken my chance at freedom.”

“And you,” a voice declares, and Saavik becomes aware that Ilia is standing at her side. “Have almost taken Saavik’s life. Go choke.”

Valeris blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

“Go choke,” Ilia repeats. “Saavik is the best person I know. She has the strength to belong to two worlds and only belong to herself. She has the courage to love people when those people are so scared they can only find hate. And if you are so blinded by your own narrow-minded, _ irrational  _ bigotry that you can’t see how moral and how strong and how smart she is, I feel bad for you. You’re never going to see what’s good in the universe unless that ‘good’ drops right into the mold you’ve imagined for it.”

“She’s half-Romulan. She should not exist.”

“No. Your blind hate should not exist.” Ilia raises her phaser. “Now go tell Captain Spock about the kal-ti-whatsit, or I will shoot you, and if I do, I guarantee you the universe will be a better place.”

“If you shoot me, you’ll face court-martial.”

“And I’ll gladly do that if it saves Saavik’s life.”

“Ilia?” says Saavik distantly, as Valeris spins on her heel and strides away, “I think I might be a little bit in love with you.”

Ilia snorts. “Of course you are.”


	23. Chapter 23

“Sit down,” Ilia tells Saavik, “And wait out the rest of your symptoms. You are shaking all over, and it’s unnerving. Lie down for a while — or, if you have to use up your energy, break the plate in half. Throw it if you have to. Scream a lot and hump walls; I don’t care, and I won’t look.”

“It was close,” Saavik says, and she forces her voice calmer with monumental strength. She wants to dig her fingernails into Ilia’s back and jerk their hips together.  _ Controlcontrolcontrol. _ “If you had not come for me, she’d be…” She wants to scream, “Feeding me again. Two or three more doses might have done it. One more might have.”  _ Control. The mind can be controlled. The mind can be controlled! _

“Saavik, you are an unnaturally bright shade of green, and I think you need to either expend your energy or wait for it to find the rest of its way out of your system. I’m-“

Saavik doesn’t let her finish, grasping the plate and hurling it through the hole Ilia left in the door, where it crashes against the opposite wall and shatters. In a place far far back in her mind, she wonders how much control the chemicals have over her. Somewhere far back in her mind, she’s scared at how she's acting. But breaking the plate felt immediately gratifying. “That felt immediately gratifying,” she sighs. “I think if I allow the chemicals to take over for a moment, a minute, they will leave me faster.”

“That makes sense.”  _ I fucking love Ilia’s voice — I want I want controlCONTROL -- _

“Stop me if I hurt you. Ilia,” she sways, and her whole body tightens, “Fighting it, just speaking, is so hard, and I want to kill and to shake and to run around screaming and fuck somebody into the wall, and I can’t…”

Ilia crosses to her. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” Saavik screams a high-pitched, keening note and kicks out at Ilia, missing.

Saavik falls to the floor and throws her head into her hands. She tears at the skin on her arms, aware of the pain but ignoring it, and fists her hands in her hair. Tugging it, tears spring to her eyes. Fire is crawling its way over her skin and she wants Ilia so badly it feels like it’s choking her and she can’t control and she can’t  _ CONTROL -- _

She sees Ilia purse her lips. She stands, staggers, and picks up the fork that she had thrown against the wall. She unbends it too quickly, and it snaps in half. Irrational anger stabs through her, and she hurls the pieces at the floor.

“I’m guessing you’re choosing the ‘work the energy out’ option. Quick question; is  _ kal-if-fee _ really a fight to the death, or does one person just usually kill the other because of their excessive energy?”

“Fight to the death. The loser of the match would die without being able to mate anyway.”

“So… in the fight… you could die.”

Saavik picks up the fork pieces and snaps each one in half again. “Remember when I killed Ensign Richardson and you asked me whether I was one of the best lirpa-wielders on Vulcan?”

“Yes.”

She snaps each quarter into an eighth. “I am.”

“Still.”

“I’ll just kill Valeris. It’s the only logical solution.” She grinds her teeth.

“You’ll be bettering the galaxy,” Ilia says lightly. “Maybe you should stop trying to break that fork.”

Saavik feels another animalistic grin cross her face and snaps each fork prong off individually. “Nothing else to break, except for you, and I have to save you.”

Ilia raises her eyebrows. “I think I’ll let you just work these hormones out. Shouldn’t take long.”

The place far far back in Saavik’s mind gets stronger. “Good idea,” she manages, before collapsing sideways to the floor.


	24. Chapter 24

“So much for catching me,” is on the edge of her tongue when she realises she is lying across two chairs in a shuttlecraft co-piloted by Captain Spock and Valeris.

Next to her is Ilia, who looks down at her as soon as she opens her eyes. Saavik watches as Ilia’s eyes flick around the craft. She nods silently to communicate that she has seen everyone aboard. Ilia nods back, then briefly covers her own eyes.

Saavik takes the hint, letting her head loll to the side and feigning unconsciousness.  _ We must almost be at Vulcan for the  _ kal-if-fee _. _

“Captain Spock,” she hears Ilia say.

Saavik imagines her asking, “How the fuck was sand involved in your  _ pon farr _ ?” and forces the minuscule smile from her face.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replies.

“Before Saavik fights Valeris, may I speak with her one final time?” 

_ Oh. _

“You may not find her to be in control of herself. She may lash out or be entirely unresponsive, lost in fighting the hormonal imbalance inside her.”

“Still, sir, it may be the last time I ever talk to her.”

_ I won’t die _ , Saavik wants to tell her.  _ I will not die. I can’t. I might, but I won’t. I will not die. I will not. _

“Very well. You may speak with her.”

“In private?”

“Yes.”

_ Thank you, Spock. _

“Estimated arrival in two minutes, thirty seconds,” Valeris chimes in, hitting a button on the console.

_ Fuck you, Valeris. _

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Saavik holds herself perfectly still, breathes evenly. She can feel their descent. Apprehension fills her.  _ Vulcan again. _

Someone approaches her; judging by the heaviness of the footsteps, it’s Spock. “I will bring her back to consciousness,” he says. Gently, he places his fingers across her face.

_ Fuck!! _ she thinks, because when he subtly edges her consciousness back to life he’ll know she’s awake and he’ll know she’s fine —

His fingers press down. There is a total lack of mental connection; his shields are up. 

Her thoughts scintillate.  _ He is not at all touching any of my consciousness, not trying to bring me back to awareness at all, which can only mean that he knows — _

“She is waking,” Spock says pointedly, and Saavik blinks her eyes open into the shuttlecraft’s light. Immediately, she gives an enraged moan, sits up and tucks her legs into herself, and forces her gaze from side to side. She looks upward towards the ceiling and squints her eyes so it appears as though her eyes are rolling back into her head. Simultaneously, she makes herself vibrate, hoping desperately that she’s getting it right.

“A typical, if extreme reaction,” Spock observes, and Saavik exhales a tiny puff of relief. She slowly starts decreasing the pace of her shaking and squints her eyes more as to not roll them up so far.  _ Why am I acting? Because Ilia knows and Valeris knows and Spock knows — does he know? He must; he must! _

Then they’re landing. Saavik hears a button pressed, hears the doors open. Immediately, heat washes over her. Sweat starts to prickle underneath her uniform, and she is grateful for the cropped top. 

Spock starts to speak again. “Lieutenant Ilia, Lieutenant Valeris and I will precede Saavik. You may remain with her to speak with her until I retrieve her for the  _ kal-if-fee _ challenge.”

Saavik waits to move until she hears the shuttlecraft doors closing behind Spock and Valeris. She feels Ilia’s hand on her knee. “You can stop acting now,” Ilia says softly.

Saavik lets herself go limp, opening her eyes and blinking. “Thank you.”

“Why can’t I watch you in the challenge?” Ilia asks bluntly.

“Spock knows.”

“What?”

“Spock knows I’m not really undergoing  _ pon farr _ . The most logical explanation for keeping you away from the challenge is so that Valeris cannot choose you as her challenger, so she can’t make you fight me.”

“Oh, Gods.” The thought appears to make Ilia feel ill.

“It won’t happen.”

“I know.” Ilia swallows. “Saavik, will you please — for me — be careful?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“One more question. In case I never see you again-“

“You will.”

Ilia waves a hand through the air. “Just in case. I want to know — I’m calling Trust Time. Please — I know you have to be honest, but I still want you to say, in those exact words, that you will tell me the truth with no distortion.”

_ It’s just the way she is. Try to understand. _ “You have my assurance,” she tells her.

“In those exact words?”

“I will tell you the truth with no distortion.”

Ilia inhales, folds her hands over themselves in her lap. “I know you were not really undergoing  _ pon farr _ . But if you were, would you have let me help you?”

Saavik looks off to the side. She thinks for a long time. “No.”

Hurt crushes Ilia’s face. Saavik reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. “I would be worried I would hurt you, or hurt both of us. There is no precedent for a Deltan and a Vulcan mating; only a Romulan and a Vulcan, who share common ancestry, and a Human and a Vulcan, when the Vulcan was himself half-Human. I would rather be bonded to Valeris through  _ pon farr _ than risk harming you.”

“That is the full and complete truth?”

Saavik hesitates.

“Tell me,” Ilia says forcefully.

“ _ Pon farr _ has been known to establish mental links between lovers. Additionally, it is extremely rare and looked-down-upon for a Vulcan who undergoes  _ pon farr _ with someone to not immediately consummate their union with a marital ceremony. I know you have other partners, and I would never want to bind you to me in any way you did not consent to. That is the other reason.”

Ilia is silent a long time before replying. “If it means anything, I would have wanted to help you. Despite everything.”

Saavik can’t smile, though she tries for Ilia’s benefit. “I appreciate it.”

“Next time, let me help.”

Saavik remembers a novel she read a long, time ago containing those last three words, and she finds she can smile. “I will,” she promises, looking directly into Ilia’s eyes.

The shuttlecraft doors slide open. “Saavik,” comes Spock’s voice. “The time is now.”

Ilia leans quickly over, takes Saavik’s hand, and presses a swift kiss to the tips of her fingers. “I know you don’t believe in it, but good luck,” she whispers.

Saavik stands. She rolls her eyes back, starts to shake again. As she passes Ilia, she brushes her fingers lightly across her arm. Then she follows Spock out into the Vulcan sunlight, trying not to wonder if it will be the last thing she ever sees. 


	25. Chapter 25

Spock keeps Saavik behind him as they walk. He does not speak to her. Saavik keeps her eyes mostly closed as they move, squinting just enough that she can see where they are going, and rolling her eyes up on occasion in case anyone’s gaze is following her. Even as she readjusts to the stronger gravity, she forces herself to shake the whole time.

She observes that they’re they’re heading leads to a woman on a palanquin. She recognises her as T’Pau, the same woman who she knows officiated at Spock’s _pon farr_ . She wonders for a second why she’s there, since she only arrives for important Vulcans, and then remembers Valeris. _The first Vulcan to become top of her class at Starfleet academy. The pride of Vulcan, if Vulcan admitted it had any pride. That’s the girl who tried to kill me._

She wishes there were a way out, wishes she could explain the poison Valeris gave her to trigger _pon farr_ , explain how they don’t love each other, but she knows that Vulcan does not allow love nor emotion to be any sort of excuse. _If I explained that Valeris had caused my_ pon farr _— they would not care what caused it, just that I was experiencing it, and therefore we would fight. If I died and she won, she would be reprimanded and punished, but I would be dead. If I stopped faking my symptoms and explained that Valeris and I did not love each other — the only way out of a betrothal is_ kal-if-fee _, and therefore we would fight._

 _The only way out of a betrothal is_ kal-if-fee _. It’s… illogical._

She knows that _kal-if-fee_ is a fight to the death because without a mate, the losing party would die anyway, yet she feels revulsion.

“Saavik,” says T’Pau, stopping her thoughts abruptly. Spock steps aside and Saavik bows her head to the Vulcan matriarch. “Art thou prepared for the _kal-if-fee_?”

“Yes,” Saavik replies thickly, through gritted teeth.

T’Pau nods. She takes a strip of purple fabric between two of her palanquin pillows and hands it to Saavik. “Sound the gong.”

Saavik takes the fabric and ties it around her waist, accepting her place in the ritual. She turns her head, opens her eyes fully. The sun blinds her for a moment and then she takes in a giant, rock-bordered sand arena, a perfect circle, with stone arches placed around it at regular intervals. In the center, there is a pillar with a large gong, weapons stacked beneath it. Valeris stands next to it, her eyes on the ground. The sun beats furiously across everything, giving life to the stone and making the sand glitter as if it’s made of ground-up diamonds. It’s a reddish light, as if, in moments, the entire arena will be consumed by vivid fire. A crowd has gathered between and under the surrounding arches, a huge crowd around one-half of the arena and a small one around the other.  


Saavik takes one step, then another, passing under one of the arches. She takes the three stone stairs into the arena and places her first foot on the sand. The heat radiates through her boot, up into the bottom of her foot, and she feels for a moment that she’s stepped onto a hot coal.

She straightens her back and slows but does not stop her shaking. The crowd’s eyes follow her as she places one foot in front of the other, approaching Valeris and the gong.

Valeris does not look at her. Now, Saavik sees, she is looking at the sky.

Unhesitatingly, she closes the distance between herself and the gong. She takes the mallet resting on the shelf above, feels its weight in her hand. Once she rings the gong, there’s no going back.

She turns it over in her hand, holds it just above the surface of the gong. Then she pulls it back and shoves it forward, sending shockwaves all across the area.

When the ringing echoes into fading, T’Pau speaks across the entire crowd. “Saavik hath chosen _kal-if-fee_ , the challenge to the death. Valeris, choose thy challenger.”

Valeris stands tall. “I fight for myself.”

 _She has no friends_ , Saavik realises, _Nobody to fight for her. All these people are here hoping she will be the victor, yet not a single person would consent to take her place._

T’Pau acquiesces. “Saavik, choose thy challenger.”

“I fight for myself.”

Another gong is rung. “Take your weapons,” T’Pau orders.

Saavik takes a lirpa, passes it from hand to hand. The weapon is heavier than her own, she thinks, before remembering that even she is heavier in Vulcan’s gravity. She has stopped shaking, stopped faking any symptoms. _The_ kal-if-fee _has begun. Nobody can stop it now._


	26. Chapter 26

Valeris passes by Saavik as she takes her lirpa, pulling it into her hands reluctantly. She has trained with one; every Vulcan child has. Yet she is aware, hyperaware, that Saavik’s proficiency far exceeds her own.

_ She always wants to fight _ , she thinks.  _ It is in no way surprising that she will kill me with violence.  Do not feel sad, _ she tells herself. _ Do not grieve your own life. Fight as hard as you can, and what will happen will. _

A gong is rung a third time. T’Pau spreads her arms wide, inviting the conflict to commence. “As it was at the time of the beginning, so it is now. The fight begins.”

Valeris moves to circle, to seek a weak spot, but before she can, Saavik runs at her, swinging her lirpa in a fluid hack. Valeris spins to the side, falls to the ground and immediately pushes herself to her feet. Saavik jabs the pommel of the lirpa at her stomach and Valeris parries it with the staff. She takes a swing, which Saavik blocks. Saavik lunges; Valeris jumps to the side. She takes five steps backward, faces off again.

_ You’re only prolonging an inevitable result. _

She tells her brain to quiet as she feints to the left and swings to the right. Saavik spins and dodges elegantly, throwing the blade of her lirpa towards Valeris’s legs. Valeris jumps backward again, takes advantage of the opening Saavik left to thrust the blade towards her chest, only to narrowly miss the top of Saavik’s head as she ducks.

Immediately, she staggers as Saavik, on the ground, kicks at Valeris’s kneecaps.

Three steps backwards and it’s Saavik’s turn to press an advantage. Valeris tries to duck, to dodge, to  _ move _ , but it’s too late. She feels the lirpa staff come down hard right between her eyes, sprawls backward onto the sand.

Saavik lands harshly on top of her, shoving all the breath out of Valeris’s body as her knees slam into her chest.  _ She was never gentle. _

Her forehead throbs. Valeris watches the light reflect off the silver lirpa blade as Saavik places it on top of her throat.

_ So. _

She looks away from Saavik’s face, waiting to see nothing at all.

“I’m not going to kill you,” she hears instead.

"What?" It takes a moment for her to register. She blinks up into Saavik’s eyes. Her throat is dry, and it’s painful to speak, Saavik’s weight on top of her obstructing her breath.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Saavik repeats. She slides the lirpa out of Valeris’s limp hand and then stands and throws both weapons into the sand. She turns toward T’Pau. “I’m not going to kill Valeris.”

T’Pau steps off her palanquin and walks onto the sandy ground. She looks from Spock to Valeris to Saavik. “Saavik, thy actions should not be possible.”

“The… the urge is gone. I am free of the plak tow, free of the blood fever!”

T’Pau narrows her eyes. “Thou knowest the rules of the challenge. The victor must kill that who was defeated.”

“I’m not going to,” Saavik marches towards T’Pau, “And I’m not going to marry Valeris either. All the rules of your challenge apply to Vulcans. Today, as half-Romulan, I declare myself non-Vulcan and declare myself free of your rules.” She tears off her purple sash, holds it out in front of her. “Valeris is free of me, and she may live long and prosper. If I may never return to Vulcan, so be it.”

T’Pau stands still for one second, two seconds, three. 

Time stretches, slows, resolves itself. Valeris slowly gets to her feet.  _ Will she accept Saavik’s solution? _ For a moment, she can see a future where she can love who she chooses, marry who she chooses, where she will never be forced to see Saavik again. She realises she is holding her breath and lets it out in a rush.

Slowly, T’Pau reaches out and takes the sash from Saavik. She looks across the arena to Valeris. “Dost thou accept Saavik’s logic?”

Valeris coughs twice; her throat is still painfully dry. She raises her voice. “Yes.”

T’Pau is silent for a moment more. “Saavik, thou art already aware thou mayest never return to Vulcan as a citizen after thy declaration.”

Saavik hesitates before speaking, but she does. “I already understand, T’Pau.”

“Then there is nothing more to say. Thou mayest go.”

Saavik holds her hand out in front of her, splits her fingers down the middle into the  _ ta’al _ . “Live long, T’Pau, and prosper. Thank you.”

T’Pau mirrors the gesture. “Peace and long life.”

Saavik, instead of walking away, looks toward Valeris. She steps back onto the sand, walks close enough to speak without shouting. “Live long and prosper,” she says to her, before turning her back and starting to leave.

“Peace and long life,” Valeris softly tells her retreating form, not expecting her to hear. 

At the words, Saavik stops for a moment, half-turns. Then she continues out of the arena, up the stairs and through the arch, and is led back to the shuttlecraft by Captain Spock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? (Thank you all for reading this far; it means a lot to me)


	27. Chapter 27

Saavik hugs Ilia fiercely, buries her head into her shoulder and lets Ilia’s hands caress her hair. “You’re back, oh Gods, you’re back,” Ilia whispers, and Saavik grips her tighter.

“I’m alive,” she says, even though it’s obvious, even though everyone knows. “I’m alive.”

“Gods,” says Ilia, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” says Saavik, gasping in every scent and every feeling, because she is alive and she is  _ free _ and never, never in her life has she felt happier. “I love you so much.”

They stay locked together for what might be a minute or five, until Captain Spock clears his throat. “I will speak with T’Pau.”

“Wait,” says Saavik, as he turns to go. “You knew all along that I was fine.”

“I did. It would have been foolish not to have monitored the cell I had you placed in.”

“Why did you let us proceed with the  _ kal-if-fee _ ?”

“Because I believe as you do. You have earned the right to yourself, and  _ kal-if-fee _ seemed to be the most efficient route to your freedom.”

“Even if it meant Valeris’s death?”

“Even so.”

Saavik regards him for a moment. “And what of her?”

“And what of her? If you wish me to tell the Vulcan authorities the crime she committed against you, I shall.”

“Wait, she’s alive?” Ilia asks. “How — what?”

“I’ll tell you. Spock, I do not wish her to undergo disciplinary action.”

“You should!” Ilia shouts. “She was trying to kill you! How do you know she’s learned her lesson?”

“She has,” Saavik declares.

“But do you  _ know _ ?”

“I do.”

“How?!”

“Because I just proved that I’m better than her by not attempting to kill.” Saavik pauses. “If she wishes to return to the  _ Enterprise _ immediately, she may. I think she is ashamed of her behavior.”

Spock nods. “I believe the same. I will relieve her from bridge duty for some time, to allow her to think. Saavik, you have found a very unique solution to a restrictive tradition that has endured for centuries, but I know you have not done it without great personal cost.”

_ I know. _ “I don't wish to speak about it.”

“That is fair.” 

Without another word, Spock exits the shuttlecraft. 

Ilia turns to Saavik. “What happened out there? What is the personal cost? Why is Valeris alive? Oh, my Gods, Saavik! What the fuck is going on?”

Saavik grimaces. “Where do I begin?”


	28. Chapter 28

“So you can never go back to Vulcan,” Ilia says soberly.

“Not as a citizen of Vulcan, no. As a guest, a visitor.”

“An outsider.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sad?”

Saavik smiles wryly. “A Vulcan might not be. But I’m not one anymore, so I suppose I can feel whatever I like.” She rests her fingers on her forehead; her head is starting to ache. “I do feel sad, yes. I feel I’ve lost half of myself, because so much of me is tied to this place. I spent my childhood here, my formative years, and it can never be my home again. It’s irrational, Ilia, because I was never happy here, because I felt like an outsider the entire time. But now that it’s gone, I miss it.”

“It makes sense to me.”

Saavik sighs. “Thank you.”

There’s a silence, during which Spock re-enters the craft. He’s alone. 

“Where’s Valeris?” Ilia asks.

“She chose to submit herself to the authorities. In a word, she confessed.”

Saavik jumps to her feet. “Does that make the  _ kal-if-fee _ invalid?”

“No. She did not reveal that you were acting. She _ implied _ that the chemical poison she put in you had fully worked and that you were fully experiencing  _ pon farr _ , and because you were experiencing it, it was of no relevance to the ritual that the symptoms had been artificially initiated.”

_ Saavik, thy actions should not be possible. _ “Are you sure T’Pau does not suspect?”

“If she has any suspicions, she did not voice them.” A slight smile lifts the corner of his lip. “Creating unnecessary complications is, of course, illogical.”

Saavik doesn’t smile back. “What will happen to Valeris?”

Spock stops smiling. “That will be decided by to the planet Vulcan. I do not know. For now, I believe we should return to the  _ Enterprise _ . My first officer and bondmate, to whom I gave temporary command, has an apparent inability to pilot any vessel for a single hour and not get into some sort of wild adventure.”

“James Kirk?” Saavik guesses.

“Yes.” Spock looks off to the side. “Once, he behaved like Valeris, a very uncivilised, uncaring man. But he has changed. And she may, too.”

“I hope so.”

“As do I.”

“I still think you should have killed her,” Ilia remarks.


	29. Chapter 29

“If you wish,” Spock says as he pilots the shuttlecraft back into the _Enterprise_ ’s dock, “I can request you both to be transferred here. I believe you would thrive.”

“About that,” says Ilia. “I noticed in the _Enterprise_ ’s cafeteria that officers were talking, that there weren’t many people sitting alone. I used to serve aboard this ship, but it was more like the _Grissom_ then. The atmosphere aboard the _Enterprise_ now seemed much less…” she shakes her head, “Less distrustful?”

“That’s a word.”

“Thanks, Saavik. Why is that, Captain Spock?”

“I assume you refer to why the social interaction aboard the _Enterprise_ was the way it was, rather than why distrustful is a word?”

Ilia scoffs. “Obviously.”

Saavik suppresses a smile.

“I outlawed murder as a viable means for promotion.”

“And you were able to enforce it without mutiny?”

Spock turns and raises an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Ilia turns to Saavik while Spock returns his gaze to the console, parking the shuttlecraft. “How?” she mouths.

“I theorise the Vulcan nerve-pinch was effective,” Saavik says out loud. “But that could not control everyone. Spock, how did you completely change the method of ascension without mass revolt?”

Spock presses a button and the shuttlecraft doors open. “When I took the _Enterprise_ back from the late Willard Decker, re-assuming the post of Captain, I observed the crew, interacting with every person aboard. What I found is that Starfleet officers are moral at their cores, and that it is the environment that they find themselves in that fosters discord and violence. I therefore did the best I could to reward good behaviour instead of its opposite. Those I could not control, I had transferred. I replaced the Agony Booths with containment and isolation chambers, but even those I rarely used. I saw morale improve, and now have the most loyal crew of any vessel, which granted me high favor with Starfleet Command. Now, on one vessel at least, morality merits promotion, rather than orchestrating death.”

“Damn,” mutters Saavik. “Please take us aboard.”

“Seconded,” Ilia says vehemently.

Spock nods. “I will see what I can do. I will comm Captain Esteban about your situations and excuse your absence for you.”

“But you can’t lie.”

“I will… exaggerate.”

Ilia looks at Saavik, who shrugs.

Spock stands, gestures to the door, and follows Saavik and Ilia out. They cross the shuttlecraft bay to the closer turbolift. Spock says, “Deck seventeen,” and they shoot upward.

“Why deck seventeen?” Saavik asks, knowing that it mostly houses living quarters.

“A certain lieutenant will not be returning anytime soon. I was wondering if you two would like to stay the night here while I try to arrange your transfer.”

“Will all her stuff be in there?” Ilia asks flatly.

“I will have it cleaned and her items taken to her.”

“Then it sounds good to me. Saavik?”

“Seconded.”


	30. Chapter 30

That night, they lie next to each other in the single bed, hands interlocked, knees almost touching. Saavik props herself up on her elbow, watching the blue light of the cabin paint her lover’s face and clothing.

Ilia takes her hand from Saavik’s and brushes a loose strand of hair behind Saavik’s ear. “So,” she says, relinking their fingers and resting them together. “When Valeris asked me if I loved you, I should have said yes.”

Saavik places her other hand on the back of Ilia’s neck, drawing her closer. “So you do?”

“Absolutely,” she replies without hesitation. “And do you love me?”

“I do. Wholeheartedly.” She smiles. “I knew your affection for me was ever as selfish as you pretended.”

“So you trusted me, then?”

Saavik nods. “I would never love somebody who was not first my friend. And you were. You trusted me.”

“I did,” Ilia confesses. “I did.”

“It’s not weakness, you know,” Saavik says, “To open your heart sometimes. You know, I think the crueler the world is, the more strength it takes to be kind, and the more the kindness has an effect.”

“We live in a very cruel world.”

“Only if we resign ourselves to that.”

“You’ve learned to be hopeful.”

Saavik assesses Ilia for a moment. “Have you?”

“I love you,” Ilia says softly, instead of answering.

“I love you, too,” Saavik tells her, shifting her hand slightly on Ilia’s face. “I can show you how much.” Her hands approach the psi points. “If you wish me to.”

Ilia looks solemnly into Saavik’s eyes. “I do.”

Their mind meld is rough and sloppy at first, like two wave crests intersecting and crashing together, asymmetrical and uneven, but they find their way. Saavik shows Ilia  _ Ilia _ , how she sees her, her hidden smiles, her hands wrapped around a blade, a phaser, around Saavik’s own fingers. She shows their kisses, their exchanged glances on the bridge, their hot stares in the turbolifts, their raw genuine gazes, always when the other wasn’t looking, never trying to show how sincere they were. She withdraws slowly, achingly, leaving behind as much affection as she can, as much hope as she can muster. The link between their minds grows tenuous and then snaps, and, like swimmers emerging from water, they come back to themselves.

Saavik removes her fingers and gently takes Ilia’s hand back into her own. “I told you I could do it.”

Ilia links her fingers with Saavik’s. “I should have believed you.”

“Please,” says Saavik, “Will you sleep next to me tonight?”

“Always,” Ilia replies. Saavik rolls over and Ilia curls around her, pulling her close. “Goodnight, Saavik.”

Saavik nestles back into the sheets, the covers, and the warmth of the love between them. “Sleep peacefully, Ilia.”


	31. Epilogue

“Enjoying your now-unpoisoned food?” Ilia asks Saavik through the noise of the _Enterprise_ 's cafeteria.

“It’s delicious, yes,” Saavik returns, amused. “Much better than the food on the _Grissom_ was.”

“I agree. I wish we could stay here.” Ilia starts to cut her Deltan greens into bite-sized pieces.

“And me, as well.”

“Back to captain Esteban. Back to the Agony Booths and watching ensigns and lieutenants and even commanders die. Back to watching your back in the halls, talking to no-one at meals.”

“Back home,” Saavik says, twisting her voice into insincerity.

Ilia’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth. “Did you just learn sarcasm?”

Saavik raises an eyebrow. “Evidently.”

Ilia laughs. “I think being non-Vulcan suits you.”

Saavik doesn’t reply.

“I’m sorry,” says Ilia after a heartbeat. “Do you miss… everything? Do you miss being Vulcan?”

Saavik ponders, taps her spoon distractedly on the edge of her soup bowl. “For now, I think I am just me, and for now, that is enough.”

Ilia smiles. “You were always enough.”

Before Saavik can thank her, a voice comes over the intercom. “This is Captain Spock. Lieutenant Saavik and Lieutenant Ilia, please report to the transporter room immediately. Spock out.”

“Well,” Ilia sighs, “At least we had one good meal here.” She hurriedly forks the rest of her salad into her mouth.

“Agreed.” Saavik stands and together they place their used utensils and plates into the chutes. “It must have been odd for you, to see how this place changed between when you were last here and now.”

“It was. It’s nice here now. I’m hardly ever scared.”

“Me neither.”

“To the transporter room, then?”

“To the transporter room.”

“Good morning, Captain,” Saavik says as they enter. She stands at attention, hands behind her back, looking around the room and identifying everyone in it. It seems like half the Enterprise’s bridge crew -- _Commander Kirk, Commander Uhura, Commander Sulu, Commander Chekov, Commander Scott, as well as the Transporter Chief Rand. Also present_ , she notes, _are Doctors Chapel and McCoy. Why are they all here?_

“Good morning, lieutenants,” Spock says.

“Why the crowd?” Ilia asks without preamble.

Dr. Chapel laughs. Spock takes it in stride. “I have a proposition to make.”

Saavik and Ilia look at each other. “What is it?” Saavik asks hesitantly.

“You both are acquainted with everybody here?”

“Yes, I of know them.”

“Me, too,” says Ilia.

“Good. And you, of course, are well-acquainted with the tyrannical oppressions of the Terran Empire’s Starfleet?”

Ilia responds first. “Yes.”

“It’s hard to believe we were ever a part of it,” says Commander Uhura softly. Saavik looks to her, and Uhura smiles at her gently, dark eyes crinkling warmly at the corners, before looking back at Captain Spock.

“Then I believe it is time you -- all of you here -- were made aware of the _Enterprise_ ’s true mission. I will accept my promotion to Commodore soon, meaning I will, at last, return command to my bondmate, Kirk.”

“It’s been years since I were a captain,” Kirk notes lightheartedly, and Saavik sees bright love in his eyes when he looks at Spock.

“Indeed it has,” Spock replies, and a rare smile crosses his face. It fades when he turns back to Saavik, Ilia, and the rest of the crew. “For years now, I have been creating connections in the Terran Empire, making friends in Starfleet and outside it, attempting to change people’s minds. A long time ago, somebody from another place told me there was… a different way. A way to traverse the stars peacefully, to spread diplomacy instead of attacking. Soon after, I relieved then-Captain Kirk and took control of the _Enterprise_ myself.”

“And ye changed it,” Commander Scott cuts in.

Spock nods. “I permitted peaceful missions only. Now, I when I am gone, I ask you all to continue what I have been attempting. When I leave the _Enterprise_ , Kirk, as a captain, will ensure that it continues to spread peaceful influences across the galaxy while I, as a commodore, spread peaceful influences across the Terran Empire.”

“That’s why you let Chekov be transferred to the Reliant!” Uhura guesses. “So that he could do the same.”

“Yes.”

“You’re hoping,” Ilia summarises, “To make the Terran Empire change.”

“I am hoping to turn it from what it is into what it can be. Saavik and Ilia, will you aid me in this endeavor, on the _Grissom_ and on whatever other vessels you are transferred to? Will you convert others to the cause?”

“Yes. We will help you in any way we can,” says Saavik. She turns. “I know I will.”

“Yes,” Ilia echoes. “I will, too. We will tear that empire down from the inside.”

“We will tear what it currently stands for down,” Spock corrects.

“Yes, sir.”

“There are always good people. Remember that,” says Commander Kirk. “And if you can’t find them, see if you can change them. Sometimes talking… does the trick.”

“Our mission is to talk to people?” Ilia asks.

“Not just that,” says Spock. “I am asking you to forsake violence and hate -- in short, to be better people, to be a positive change.”

Ilia’s stance changes, then relaxes again. “Do you think we can do it?”

“I believe that you can. When you return to the _Grissom_ \-- and there is only one minute and thirty-six seconds until Esteban expects you back -- will you try to make a change?”

“Yes,” says Ilia, “But we will do it for ourselves, and because it is right, and not for you.”

“And now they have to go,” says Rand gently, “If we don’t want them punished by their captain.”

“Very well.” Spock turns to face them and raises his hand, offering the _ta’al_. “Live long and prosper, Saavik. Live long and prosper, Ilia.”

“Peace and long life, Spock.” Saavik mirrors the gesture, then takes Ilia’s hand, stepping onto the transport pads. “And to all of you: may your journey be pleasant.”

Saavik looks at Ilia and Ilia looks at her as Rand pulls the lever down, as the whooshing in their ears grows louder and the faces of the crew in front of them fade to black.

 _Things will change_ , Saavik thinks, as the familiar, angry face of Captain Esteban materialises in front of her. _There are good people._

Their thoughts flow together, merging through their clasped hands. _  
_

_  
Things will change. And we will change them._


End file.
